Becoming The Fabulous Miss C
by Angel Sentier
Summary: [COMPLETED] Five days before the wedding, Chloe is left at the altar. Buried in work, gaining weight, and out of faith for the male race, an unlikely source helps her out. Not your typical Cinderella. The 2nd story in our Fairy Tale Series. Please R&R!
1. Work, Work, Work

------NEWS!------  
If you enjoyed this story and it's companions and want more... We are currently adapting these stories as Audio Dramas! So, you can hear Chloe, Philip, and everyone else as these stories are woven together in an on-going radio play! And it's not just what we have of these stories, oh no... The audio series will go above and beyond what's on these pages. We're very excited about it and thought we'd share this with our readers who have been so supportive and patient with us.  
For more information, please visit pendantaudio dot com and please have a listen to the other shows as well, the people at Pendant Audio are so multi-talented and their shows are very entertaining! (And you may hear me and Parsley acting in them, as well!)  
Happy listening!

--Angel Sentier--

* * *

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter One

"No, no, I already told you!" Chloe sighed and leaned back from the stationary bike's handle bars, legs still pumping. She re-adjusted the telephone headset that was starting to make her ear ache. "Ms. Carlyle can't have any appointments before noon... She already has commitments to make at that time."

"Yeah, like getting a massage on company time," said Tessa, from the cluttered table beside the bike. She reached underneath a pile of papers and retrieved a large bag of candy conversation hearts. As she filled up another plastic champagne glass, she shook her head at Chloe.

Chloe answered by rolling her large green eyes at her friend. "No, I can't move anything around. What about moving some things on your end?... What do you mean, he's booked through the end of the month?... No! No, he doesn't need to find another advertising firm..." She pinched the bridge of her nose to fight off the coming migraine. "What if I had someone working for Ms. Carlyle come meet with him?"

"You're already doing too much, Chloe," Tessa said as she tied a knot in the pink ribbon. "You shouldn't let Ginger work you like a dog."

_How many times have I heard that? _thought Chloe, but she was too busy scribbling in a fat appointment book to acknowledge what she knew was absolutely true. "Seven a.m; got it." She threw down the pen, grabbed the towel hanging from the handle bars, and wiped the sweat from her brow. "Alright, it's entered into the calendar. Thank you."

No sooner had she hung up the headset that a silver cell phone on the crowded table began deedling _Close to You_.

"I hate that fucking song!" Tessa groaned.

"Ginger programmed it like that, so I'll pick it up sooner," Chloe said before pressing the talk button. "Chloe Ashton." Closing her eyes, she groaned silently. "What do you mean, you're out of baby's breath? Baby's breath is always in season! Hold on a second..." Without pausing in her exercise, she leaned over the table and dug through the paper pile.

"I don't know how you can find anything in this disaster of an apartment," said Tessa, casting a glance at the small space that had obviously seen cleaner days. Wedding preparations were thrown everywhere, along with clothes Chloe just didn't have time to take to the laundry, folios from work that still needed proof-reading, and everything else that needed to be sorted through and organized.

She held the phone to her chest to muffle the sound. "It's not easy when I had to move into an apartment half the size of the one I was living in. I'll clean it when I move out of here and into Jason's apartment." Underneath a list of guests, she found the receipt for the florist. "Ah! Here we go..." She brought the phone back up to her ear. "It says right here, red roses, baby's breath... Yes, I'm looking at my invoice right now... How can you possibly think that it looks like 'yellow?'... Uh-huh... Uh-huh..."

"I told you not to use that florist," said Tessa as she ripped open another package of tulle rounds with her teeth.

Chloe covered the receiver with her other hand. "He's the cheapest one in town," she said before going back to the conversation. "Alright, alright, fine. Yellow, it is... No, I'm not going to pay _extra_!... Because you're the ones who screwed up my order!"

A black cell phone on the table began tooting _Hollaback Girl._

"Ugh!" said Tessa. "It's like she reached into my brain and pulled out the songs I would hate the most!"

"Hold on," Chloe told the florist before flipping open the second phone with her teeth. "Chloe Ashton... No, mom, the guest list has been finalized, I can't add another fifty people... Because we won't have enough seats at the hall or food at the reception!... Who are these people, anyway?... Uh-huh... Uh-huh..."

"It's not too late to back out now," said Tessa. "You've still got five days until the wedding."

"Look, mom, this really isn't a good time," Chloe was saying. "Mom... Mom!... Mom, I've got another call, I'll call you back." She switched phones. "Mr. Salard? Can you hold on for just one more minute?" Switch. "Chloe Ashton... Hi, Ginger... Yes, you don't have to meet with him anymore. I'll just take the portfolio... What? The proposal's not finished?"

Tessa's head shot up. "Don't do it, Chloe."

"You want me to come in tonight?"

"_Don't_ do it."

"I can't. I have plans. It _is_ my day off." Chloe grinned at Tessa's thumbs up, but a moment later, her face fell. "_How_ early tomorrow morning?"

"_Don't."_

"Are you sure there's no one else who can--" For a moment, she considered trying to strangle the phone, but her voice was perfectly calm when she spoke again. "Sure, six a.m; no problem." She flipped the phone shut and raised the other back up to her ear. "Mr. Salard, are you still there?... No, red was my _original_ order, not yellow!" She sighed. "Okay, I can come down there... How about tomorrow, around one?"

"That's your lunch hour."

Chloe shrugged at her. "Okay, thanks, bye." She punched the end button and tossed the phone on the table. "AUGH!"

"I'm serious," said Tessa. "You're headed straight for a nervous breakdown if you keep this up. Not only is The Bitch working you day and night, but you're using every other spare minute planning this wedding all by yourself. You're marrying an asshole, you know that, right?"

"Jason isn't any good at planning things, you know that. And this way, I get the wedding exactly how I want it."

"That's what he told you to convince you into doing this, isn't it?"

"Well..."

"He's an asshole! He doesn't treat you right, he's a whiny, bitchy, little three-year-old, _and_ he's been cheating on you."

"We don't know that for sure..."

"Riiiiiiiiight. And these suck, by the way," she said, holding up a candy heart filled champagne glass wrapped in tulle.

"It's... all I can afford right now."

"God forbid Jason should spend any money on the wedding."

"Look, Jason may be an asshole, but he's _my _asshole. And marrying an asshole is better than an endless stream of meaningless relationships, _Tessa._" Chloe gave her a pointed look. "You can't tell me that you don't feel empty."

"Of course, I feel empty. I can't have sex _all_ the time..."

She tilted her head at Tessa in confusion. "What? I wasn't talking about--" At her friend's raised eyebrow and sly smile, the meaning clicked into her head. "TESSA! That's not what I meant!"

Tessa grinned. "I know. I just love to tease you. You're so cute when you pretend to be shocked. Come on, we've been friends for how long? You can drop the virgin act. I know what you've done. You are _not_ a virgin."

"Yes, I am!"

"Oh, no, you're not."

"_Technically_, I am."

"Yeeeeeah. And _technically_, my bra is a thirty-six double-D. It just also happens to be every other size leading up to it, too!" She plopped the bag of candy down on the table to give Chloe a direct look. "Answer me this... Has his naked throbbing dick been anywhere near you?"

"TESSA!"

"Just answer the question."

"Well... Yeah, it's been _near_..." Her face reddened.

"That's sex, Chloe."

"It is _not_!"

"I'm not having the 'penetration argument' with you again!" She wagged a finger at her. "You _cannot_ call yourself a virgin. You've punched your 'V' card so many times, it's like one of those old fashioned music box discs!"

"Fine... I'm the 'everything, but' virgin."

"Ugh!"

"I've got an idea. Let's not argue about this."

"Great." She set to work filling up the glasses again. "Let's go back to our first argument."

"Tessa..." she groaned.

"Come on, Chloe. Can you honestly tell me that feeling empty occasionally is worse than tying yourself to an asshole?"

"Don't you ever want something permanent, Tessa?" Chloe asked. "I do. I like the whole 'lasting' idea. I want someone to come home to. Someone I know will be there in the morning. Jason's not perfect, but neither am I. Sure, it's a risk, but..."

The timer at the head of the bike beeped and Chloe slumped off of it with a sigh. She grabbed the enormous water bottle from the floor and downed about half of the contents before climbing on the treadmill on the other side of the table.

"You're going to faint if you keep this up. Are you even eating? You're a twig!" Tessa asked.

"I've got a size seven wedding gown to fit into, and I _will_ fit into it by the wedding, damn it!"

"At least tell me you're doing it for yourself." At the following silence, Tessa groaned. "Chloe! That asshole did NOT tell you to lose weight!"

"I'm doing it for myself, too... I don't want to look at my wedding pictures and think what a cow I was."

"Shut up, you were a size fourteen. You have no right to compare yourself to a cow until you have weighed as much as me or Teri."

"You and Teri are NOT cows."

"Here's an idea, let's not argue about this."

"Ha, ha..."

Next to the first two phones, a pink one began playing the theme from _Titanic._

"Okay, this is really starting to push the bounds of what can be termed 'music,' Chloe," said Tessa.

"Chloe Ashton." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, she's here." She extended the phone to Tessa. "It's for you."

"Oh, God... If they're trying to reach me here, it can only be one of three people." She reluctantly took the phone. "Hello?... Hi, Princess," Tessa mumbled at her sister. Her forehead furrowed in annoyance. "What? No!... Because I'm busy!... More importantly, I don't want to... I just don't feel like going to a bar tonight, okay?"

Chloe knew instantly what Princess was trying to talk Tessa into. Chloe had been rejected as the Triumvirate's 'filter' ever since she lost the weight. While she still considered her looks to be somewhat unremarkable, as a cock-blocker she had lost her appeal to the three goddesses. She clasped her hands together in a gesture of supplication. _Please? Please? _she mouthed. If Tessa took them all out for a few hours, there would be three less people trying to call her.

Tessa hesitated, then sighed. "When do you want me to pick you up?" she asked, monotone. "Fine." She flipped the phone shut and scowled at Chloe. "You owe me."

"I already owe you."

She shrugged. "What's a few thousand dollars between friends? This is my sanity I'm talking about."

"Since when have you ever been sane?"

"Point taken." Tessa stood and grabbed her red jacket off the back of the chair she had been sitting on. "I'd better go. I should throw on some more clothes before I go pick them up."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you--"

"Yeah, yeah..."

"And thank you for helping me with the favors."

"When would you find time to do it? Besides, I only get to see you when I'm helping you with something."

"I'm sorry..."

"No 'I'm sorries.'" She smiled and shrugged into her coat. "I'll meet you and Teri for dinner tomorrow?"

She nodded. "Right. See you."

"I'd hug you, but you're all sweaty. And, to be honest, you smell. See you."

Tessa opened the door to the apartment... and standing in the doorway, fist raised and ready to knock, was the gray-eyed, black haired asshole Chloe was to marry that week.

"Jason," both women greeted him at the same time; one happily, one annoyed.

Pointedly, Tessa checked her watch. "You're right on time, Jason. The work's about done."

"Very funny, Tessa," he said, rolling his eyes. He aimed his thumb toward Tessa's car in the driveway. "Would you mind?"

"Don't worry, I was just leaving. Something that, for once, has nothing to do with your arrival." She looked back at Chloe who was just climbing off the treadmill. "Later, hon." The door closed behind her.

Chloe removed the headset and blotted her face with the towel. _Fuck... _she thought. _I wish he would call before he comes by... I look like hell! _"I wasn't expecting you," was all she said, smiling. "This is a nice surprise. If you give me ten minutes, I can take a shower and change out of these sweats. Maybe we could get something to eat..."

"Maybe," he said, his eyes shifting away from hers. "Uh, Chloe--"

_Close to You _cut off what he would have said.

"Hold on," she said, rolling her eyes and picking up the silver phone. "Chloe Ashton... Yes, Mr. Sebastian is confirmed for this Friday, I sent you an email on this... You never got it?... No, I absolutely sent it to you... Yesterday... Well, I have a copy at-- You found it." She sighed. "Great. We'll see Mr. Sebastian on Friday." She punched the end button and turned her attention back to Jason. "Sorry about that. What were you going to say?"

"Well--"

The theme from _Titanic._

"UGH!" She picked up the pink phone. "Chloe Ashton... Yes, Tessa already left... Right after Princess called... She'll be there soon, okay?" She flipped it shut. "Seriously, I feel like the maid for those three."

"Look, Chloe, I stopped by because--"

The headset phone began ringing. A sigh of frustration exploded from him as she turned to answer it. "I'll come back later. You're obviously busy."

_He always makes it sound like I make the phone ring on purpose._

"I'm sorry, sweetheart..."

He glared at her. It was always the expression he gave her when he was annoyed. "I'm never that important to you."

She put the phone down. "I'm sorry. You know I'm always doing five things at once, but that in no way makes you less important." She held up her hands. "No more answering the phone while you're here today, I promise. That's what voice mail is for, right?"

He didn't say anything. Again, his eyes slid away.

She furrowed her brows. "What is it?"

To be continued...


	2. Feeling the What?

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Two

"He said, 'I just don't feel the we-ness.'"

Teri and Tessa both swallowed hard, trying to keep the Tequila Sunrises from shooting out of their noses. Teri buried her head against Tessa's shoulder, stifling weird snorting noises, while Tessa stared at Chloe from behind her glasses in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," said Tessa. "He said he couldn't feel the what?" She was beginning to chuckle, and Teri's round face was turning redder by the second.

Chloe knew they didn't mean to laugh at her pain. Even someone as tactless as Teri could be wouldn't be inclined to laugh at someone when her fiancé had left her five days before the wedding. But she also knew, better than most, that Jason always had a subtle way of phrasing things that could make even the sanest person pull out their hair in fits of laughter. She could hardly blame them. She'd been crying uncontrollably for a week straight, unable to tell her two friends the whole story. And now that she could bring herself to discuss it, to reveal something that sounded so incredibly dumb to the ears was her undoing these past seven days; she might have laughed herself if she could have remembered how.

"Come on," said Teri. "What was that he said?"

Chloe rolled her eyes and sighed. "...The we-ness."

The entire wing of the restaurant seemed to reverberate with the sound of their roaring laughter. The glasses behind the bar rattled and for a moment, she was sure the bottles of alcohol would burst and shower anyone nearby with their contents.

"It's not that funny, guys."

"Oh, yes, it is!"

_It _was_ pretty stupid of him, _she had to admit. She stabbed the hot fudge sundae before her relentlessly, her fourth since this morning, as she vented her righteous anger to her two best friends. "I had been busy with work and the wedding plans, but I had made every effort to make time for him. He was the one who had been distant, 'working late,' never helping out with the wedding..."

"How many girls had he been seeing?"

Chloe finished her Diet Coke in one long swallow before answering. "Three. Jason's friends told me. Since he couldn't feel the 'we-ness' with me, he felt it with as many other women as possible. I don't even know how many he's seeing now..."

She could feel her throat starting to close up again, but her body had no more tears left in it to come forth. She'd cried all night after Jason had left the apartment. Her phones had rung, unheeded, during that time, earning her a lecture from Ginger when she'd gone into work the next day. She hadn't wanted to go, crying at work was a humiliation she'd hoped to forgo in this lifetime, but calling in sick was a pipe dream. Each day for the past week, every tiny little thing had set off another bout of crying. Of course, the Triumvirate had taken much glee in this new game, 'Who Can Make Chloe Cry The Fastest?' As much as Ginger paid her to take the amount of shit she did, as she had sat in a corner of the women's break room with a box of tissues and a purse full of candy bars, she began to wonder if it was worth it...

In lieu of the relief crying granted her, she relied on the comfort that sugar offered. With intense fervor, she devoured another glob of chocolate-covered ice cream. After all, she didn't need to diet and exercise herself to death anymore. She had no need of the eight thousand dollar wedding gown she'd bought with Tessa's money. It hung like a ghostly skeleton in the back of her closet, waiting for a day that was never going to come.

The sugar should have soothed her nerves or at least distracted her, and if it hadn't, then the atmosphere should have. The three of them loved _Le Chere Canard,_ their favorite bistro. The waiters often joked that the girls were there so much, they should start getting a salary. It was a new building that had been artistically painted to look like an out-of-the-way, hole-in-the-wall type place that might have stood there since forever. Distressed plastic ivy had been stapled to the stucco walls and brown string and glue simulated roots digging into the faux finish. Inside, there were intentionally cracked rust brown tiles on the floor and moss had been sponge-painted on by someone who was obviously too crafty for their own good. None of the plates, glasses, or flatware matched, in a purposely eclectic manner. The French food that was served was very obviously fake, and the drinks were astonishingly strong. The servers were mostly male and cute and they pretended to give a rat's ass, even if they didn't actually like the person whom they were serving, smiling through bleached white teeth. Chloe found comfort in the completely fake. Like at Disneyland, while surrounded by falseness, she could believe she was the happiest person on earth.

But not that night. As she spoke to her two best friends about Jason's betrayal, anger welled like a dam inside her. Where there was emptiness, rage overflowed. Feeling the swirling, boiling volcano of fury just grow exponentially the more she talked about it, she knew the wrath would soon become a tangible thing and explode in an eruption that would take down the entire city if she didn't get some release soon. Wasn't venting the venom to friends supposed to make you feel better?

Or perhaps it was the five Diet Cokes she had swallowed down that was causing the sudden blockage. In fact, that particular problem was becoming more of an issue than the rage and anger combined at the moment. A volcano must have its natural outlet, after all.

"I gotta pee," Chloe announced, perhaps a bit louder than she should have as she rose from her seat to head to the restroom.

Teri and Tessa smiled broadly at her; Teri with her head in her hand and her elbow on the table, Tessa with her elbow on Teri, each woman wore the look of peace and bliss that comes with being romanced by the sweet kiss of Jose Cuervo. Teri's long auburn hair spilled over the edge of the 'hand-carved' fiberglass table like thick red syrup from a bucket. Both women looked as though they might pass out or start giggling... or pass out from giggling. Knowing her two friends way too well, she expected the twittering laughter to start at any second.

"You want me to go with you?" Teri asked, eyes glassy and speech a bit slurred.

"No, I'm a big girl. I can pee alone. You, however, don't look like you could walk by yourself."

"True," she said as Chloe turned away.

"Chloe?" said Tessa.

She looked back. "Hmm?"

"Remember, he's a bastard, and someday he'll spontaneously combust."

She smiled. _Gotta love Tessa-isms. _"Thanks. That means a lot."

"He sucks so bad, even his mother thinks so," added Teri.

"Yeeeeeah." Leave it to Teri to come up with the really _wrong_ sentiments. "I'll be right back, I really have to go."

"Hey, Chloe!" she slurred after her.

"What?"

"Weeeeeee-nesssssss!" she screeched. "Oh, God! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" She threw her hands in the air and began to shriek with laughter like some psychotic bird having an asthma attack as Tessa joined in.

Chloe wasn't sure if she should laugh with them, or cry in fury, but nature was telling her that she'd be standing in a puddle if she didn't get to a toilet soon. She walked quickly toward the hallway at the corner of the restaurant. In the bathroom, nothing could go wrong. Everything went as expected in the bathroom. No surprises... At least, there weren't, until she looked at the couple sitting in the booth next to the hallway.

_He's had his hair cut._ She had no idea why the first thing she should notice would be his hair, but the black mass that had never done anything but lay there like road kill was now cut and styled, with frosted tips. He was also wearing the garnet red, button-down silk shirt that she had bought him for Christmas, and a pair of brand-new jeans. _Is... Is that a manicure? Holy God, there's clear nail polish and everything... _When she remembered to breathe, she could smell that he had changed his cologne from the cheap crap to something that was probably endorsed by some designer who emblazons their name on underwear.

Worse still, Jason was smiling and nodding at the tallest pile of peroxide, silicone, and collagen Chloe had ever seen. A statuesque model-type draped, barely, in cream chiffon, with rose-painted lips and kohl-lined turquoise eyes. Chloe could feel herself shrinking in comparison as she glanced at her own mousy ash blond strands she hadn't had the time or the money to get taken care of and her faded gray college sweatshirt and exercise pants she had almost literally fallen into that morning before work. Her puffy green eyes narrowed at Jason who looked like he hadn't lost any sleep over her at all.

For a moment, all of the anger she'd just been feeling swelled dangerously and threatened to come up to the top, blasting in Pandora's Box-like fashion at the former object of her devotion. But as she glanced from Jason to the gorgeous woman and back again, the courage that comes with murderous anger shriveled and cowered before the almighty self-consciousness that had always held her in its thrall. She ducked into the hallway and ran for the women's bathroom door, praying she hadn't been noticed. After securely locking the faux oak stall door behind her, she sat down.

Chloe had no idea how many times she had gone pee in her life, but she had _never_ done it with such fury and raw hatred for everything around her. In her anger, she imagined forcing out a stream so powerful, it would crack the porcelain bowl in half and dig a deep groove in the floor, exposing the soil, the pipes, the center of the earth, and perhaps even Hell itself. It was a piss of rage, a piss of anguish, a piss to end the world. Not only was she angry with the asshole sitting not fifteen feet away, but angry with the entire world as she knew it and the way it worked.

_How can someone who has screwed me over so badly and tortured me with words and emotions be living the good life while I wallow in the muck?_ she screamed silently, the words echoing within the privacy of her mind. _How can it be that I am sitting in the bathroom of my favorite bistro waiting for the world to end because I can't face my ex? I was supposed to see him next when I was fine and looking fabulous and able to wish him all the happiness I could... Yep. I'm in Hell._

Once she'd finished, sadly leaving the toilet intact, she opened the door to enter another level of Hell. There she was at the sink, applying another layer of lipstick, tall as a redwood and twice as majestic. She turned to meet Chloe's gaze with a shy smile and a hint of pity in her shiny sapphire eyes.

"You must be Chloe."

Her voice was a husky alto, almost like Marlene Dietrich, but kind of strange on the ears. Soothing, and oddly attractive. She found herself offering a hand to the woman, which she took with her perfectly manicured acrylics.

"Jason saw you when we came in. I'm Denise. Jason and I met today."

"How nice," Chloe choked out. _He saw me and _still_ came inside? He really just doesn't care about my feelings._

"I hope you don't mind, but he told me about the, um... well... the _unpleasantness_ between you."

"Oh, did he?" she said, trying for nonchalant, but it probably came out as bitchy. "What did he say?"

"Well... He said that 'there are women in this world that a man needs for stability, and women that the same man would leave the stable one for,'" she said in a manner that was more casual than insulting as she brushed a stray blond hair from her perfect eyes.

There was something about Denise that Chloe couldn't place. In the midst of all the rage, something was bugging her about the woman before her, and she searched for what it could be... Then, as Denise re-adjusted a crepe scarf at her throat, there it was.

_Oh. My. God._

An Adam's apple.

She stood bewildered for a moment, caught between a stunned gasp and a giggle of perverse glee. _Ha! Karma's on my side now! If he knows about this, then it's a good thing he called things off when he did. And if he doesn't... I can revel in some form of vengeful, silent tee-hees for a good long time._

"It's so very nice to meet you," she said, unable to help to the smile that was spreading across her face. "I hope you and Jason have a lovely time."

"Thank you," said Denise with an answering smile. "Here..." She reached into her reticule and produced a card. "If you like, why don't you give me a call and we can have coffee sometime?"

"Sure," said Chloe, absently sticking the card in the pocket of her sweat pants. _I'd love to have a... tee-hee... blow-by-blow account of tonight's events, _she thought, feeling as though perhaps the world was not so terrible after all.

As she walked Denise back to the table, Jason shot straight up in his seat at the sight of the two of them together.

"Chloe!" he exclaimed.

"Jason. You're looking well."

"Uh, yeah..." His eyes shifted from one woman to the other, perhaps looking for signs of a cat fight in the restroom.

"Denise told me what you said about women."

"Look, Chloe, let's not have a scene..."

"Jason, please. I'm not going to make a scene. I just want you to know..." She leaned in and patted him on the shoulder with a broad smile. "You deserve Denise. Good luck with the we-ness. I'm sure you'll be feeling it very soon."

He blinked in surprise. "Well... Thanks."

"Or something like it," Chloe added under her breath as she nearly skipped back to the table. _I wonder if I should tell Teri and Tessa everything now, or wait until they're sober enough to enjoy it... Muahahahaha..._

To be continued...


	3. A Series of Conversations

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Three

Chloe's digital bedside clock read 3:35am in bright red numbers when the phone rang that night. Dimly, she tried to register which one it was... It took her two more rings before she realized it was her home phone, the one that never rang.

Not bothering to pull her head out of the covers, she reached over to the nightstand, groped around a bit, and finally picked up the receiver. "Hello?" she mumbled.

"You vindictive bitch!"

She blinked. "...Dad?"

"No, not 'Dad!'"

"...Jason." Her brain clicked. "...Heh heh heh..."

"You planned the whole thing, didn't you?" he accused her, loudly.

"No, but I sure as hell wish I had!" she said, sitting up and folding her legs under her, very awake now. "Did you have fun with feeling the _we-ness_, Jason? Because that's why you're calling, isn't it? Well, I guess you're right. We-ness is something I could _never _give you!"

"That's not funny!"

"Oh, are you going to have your _boyfriend_ come beat me up?"

"Laugh all you want, Chloe, but just think. While you were sobbing into your ice cream with your two friends--"

"I was _not_ sobbing."

"_I _was out with what I thought, at least, was a woman."

"Oh, yeah. That's WAY better."

"_The point is_... I've moved on, which is more than I can say for you!"

Chloe bit her lip. He was kind of right. But she had enough sense not to let on that what he said had gotten to her. "I'm not so sure that you should go around bragging about _what_ exactly you've moved on _to_, Jason. That is, unless you _want_ to come out of the closet--"

"Good-BYE, Chloe!" The receiver was slammed in her ear.

She hung up the phone and looked at it for a moment. So, she hadn't moved on yet. So, what? It had only been a week. Of course, he was over it. _He _was the one who had ended it! By law, she was entitled to, at the very least, several weeks of bitching, complaining, and crying, coupled with insane amounts of ice cream. Glancing at the clock, she groaned and snuggled back into the covers. Ginger wanted her at the office early, _again_, to proof-read the proposal on the ad campaign for an upcoming movie release. At the moment, sleep was way more important than worrying about her crappy ex-fiancé.

* * *

As Philip settled himself into the chair, he caught the hairdresser staring at him in the mirror; the cloth he had been about to drape him in was forgotten in his hand. It was a look he had been receiving somewhat more often, now that he had gotten the award; the 'oh-my-fucking-God-aren't-you-Philip-Carter-Grayson' look. He smiled his 'go-ahead-I-know-you-want-to-ask' smile as the fruity-looking man opened his mouth.

"Aren't you--?"

"Yes, I am."

Philip smiled as the man went into a short appraisal of his work on the big screen and stage. For the sake of the people he met, he let them talk about his celebrity as though he wasn't already aware of it. He didn't like to cut their opinions short, and sometimes he was rewarded by a refreshing new view of his work. Nothing really new from this man, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He would eventually remember he was there for a hair cut, and Philip wasn't in a huge rush.

"So, then, if you don't mind my asking," the stylist said as he rinsed Philip's hair in the sink. "How are things with your girlfriend? Or is she your fiancée now?"

He rolled his eyes. "Wait until Friday; it'll be all over the tabloids."

"Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good. Who broke up with whom?"

"She with me. By fax."

"That bitch!"

"I guess she had her reasons. Never been broken up with by fax before, though... It kind of sucks. But, well, that's Erika for you."

He paused in the act of finding his shears. "Um... You mean, Emily, don't you?"

"Right, right... Emily." He glanced at him in the mirror. "Oh, don't read too much into that. I can't remember a name to save my life."

"Oh... Yeah, I think I heard that rumor about you a while back. So, it's true?"

"Yeah, but the part about the director slugging me in the face is a lie. I still have no idea what that man's name is..."

He set to work with the shears. "Well, you and Emily had a good run. Wasn't it almost six months that you were together?"

Philip sighed. "Yeah. That's practically forever in terms of most Hollywood relationships. Although..."

The trimming paused. "Although?"

"No, it's nothing."

"Come on, what?"

"Well..." He glanced at him again, but figured what the hell. The only person better to talk things over with than a hairdresser was a gay hairdresser. "Eleanor--"

"Emily." The snipping began again.

"Right, Emily, she was the third girl to break up with me this year. All of them were poised, beautiful, and charming. But there was nothing there, no chemistry between us. According to the rags, Esmeralda--"

"Emily."

"Emily, right, that's what I said. To them, she and I were practically engaged. But in reality, we were little more than friends."

"Friends that screw, right?"

"Well, yeah, don't get me wrong..."

The stylist laughed, it was a pleasant sound.

"Anyway, I'm kind of getting tired of all the... the..." He searched for the right word for a moment. "You know, all the fake."

"Fake? They were actresses. It's all they are. You're an actor, you know that."

"Right. But sometimes I want something permanent. _Really_ permanent, not just Hollywood permanent. Something _real_."

"That's a tall order, Mr. Grayson."

"Tell me about it."

"Speaking of Hollywood, why are you all the way out here and not there? On location?"

He smiled. "Actually, I'm here for a premiere. It was filmed here, so it's premiering here. We've even hooked up with an advertising company that's based in the city."

"Really?" The man smiled broadly as he took out a hair dryer. His teeth were very even and white. "Could you get me tickets to the show as my tip?"

He grimaced. "I think I'd rather pay you to stay away. This movie is going to suck, big time. And I should know, I'm in it."

"It can't be that bad. What's it about?"

"It's an action/comedy/adventure/romance called _For So the Night Will More Than Pay the Hopeless Longings of the Day. _I'm a retired Interpol agent with a gambling problem and a weakness for poetry working as a lawyer in the states, my wife and children are kidnapped by some guys, I have to go after them, my family gets killed, I blame myself, some hot chick shows up, she says she can help me find the guys, we do some screwing, shit gets blown up, throw in a car chase, blah, blah, blah..."

"Why would you make a movie that's that bad?"

He shrugged. "My agent contracted me into it."

"Well, you might find something out here that will make up for your crappy movie and even crappier love life."

"What?"

He removed the drape and flourished with the handheld mirror. "A fabulous haircut, of course."

Philip checked out his hair from a few different angles and grinned. "Wow, you did a great job! No wonder you came so highly recommended."

He smiled confidently. "I take great pride in my work."

He rose from the chair and paid the man, tipping him generously. "If you're ever interested in hair and makeup for film..."

"Thanks," he said, shaking his head. "But I've got a side business that keeps me pretty busy as well as the salon work. I appreciate the offer, though. I'm flattered!"

"Sure. Well, thanks, Dave."

He tapped his name badge. "Dennis."

"Right, Dennis."

* * *

After a long hard day of running Ginger's errands, typing up Ginger's proposals, answering phones and mail, and trying to manage her own work, Chloe was sleeping like a rock. Ever since this movie PR package came up a week ago, she'd been worked twice as hard by the Triumvirate, and she hadn't thought that was possible. She wasn't sure when she was finding the time to eat, but since the only thing she kept in her refrigerator now was ice cream, she was still gaining weight. She was still pondering how exactly she managed to hold thirty-six cartons of ice cream in the little fridge, left over from her college days. The restorative powers of Ben and Jerry's was a slow process, but she thought it was working. While under the influence of several pints of chocolate and caramel swirl and buried in her work, she was unable to think about Jason.

At least, not until the phone rang at 3:29 that morning. This time, it was the theme from _Titanic_ that woke her.

She moaned. _No... Please, no, _she pleaded, but the phone was relentless, so she reached over and flipped it open. "Whaaaaat?" she groaned.

"Chloe. You need to come pick me up," said Staci, the tall, brunette social butterfly of the Triumvirate, in that clipped tone of voice she always used for people she considered beneath her. Never want to waste valuable speaking time on the underlings, after all.

"What?" said Chloe. "What about Tessa?"

"I called her. She's not home. In fact, we haven't heard from her since last night when she took us out." Her tone suggested that she was already pissed that Tessa wasn't at her beck and call.

"Why don't you call a cab?"

"If you think I am going to set one of my perfectly manicured toenails, let alone my Prada shoes, inside some smelly cab, you've got another thing coming. You need to come pick me up. And don't you dare pick me up in that piece of shit you drive. You need to go down to the office, borrow a company car, and then come get me."

Chloe covered her face with her free hand. "Do you realize I have to be awake to get ready for work in a few hours?"

"Then I would think you'd be hurrying to get down here, rather than arguing with me like an idiot and using up _my_ cell phone minutes!"

While Chloe knew Staci probably got free nighttime minutes, she also knew that Staci was just going to get bitchier and bitchier and she would have to hear about it from Ginger in the morning. "Fine! Where the hell are you?"

"I'm at Jason's apartment."

Chloe's heart stopped. Only too clearly could she hear the sneer in the other woman's voice.

"I'd give you the address, but I believe you know it. Thanks, honey."

Chloe stared at the dial-toning phone in her hand. She took a deep breath.

"Bitch!" she screamed. "_Biiiiiiiiitch_! BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!"

Somewhere, a car alarm went off and a dog started barking madly. Chloe only stopped screaming when she realized she'd lost her voice. She'd been screaming 'bitch' into the dead receiver for a full five minutes.

Through some merciful act of God, Jason did not come to the door when she knocked on it about forty-five minutes later. However, when Staci walked out, the bubble of rage inside Chloe's chest swelled as she realized the bitch was wearing Jason's red silk shirt.

Staci, of course, saw Chloe staring at the shirt and wrinkled her nose disdainfully. "I couldn't find my top, so he gave me this old rag to wear. He said it brought back bad memories, so I don't have to worry about getting it back to him."

While Jason could have meant the date with Denise, the double entendre was not lost on Chloe. "That's a silk shirt," she croaked out.

Staci snorted delicately. "Yeah... _Nordstrom's _silk. Whatever, just get me home. It took you long enough to get here. I've had _no_ sleep, you know..."

Chloe might have said something biting to Staci about how _she_ woke her up from a sound sleep to drive her home, but without a voice, it was rather impossible to make herself heard over Staci's loud prattling. She looked at the clock on the dash of the Beamer, 4:21am. By the time she got Staci home, dropped off the company car, and got back to her apartment, it would be time to get up. Silently, she groaned.

_Just drive..._ she thought, gripping the leather steering wheel tightly. _Don't think about swerving the back end of the car into a telephone pole, this is a company car. Just drive. Don't burst into tears. Just because you've found out who one of the girls he was cheating on you with is, doesn't mean you have to cry. It's not the end of the world; she probably didn't do it maliciously... Okaaay... Sure. Just who are you trying to kid here? Because you sure as hell aren't fooling yourself!_

She bit her lip and drove on in silence. Later on, she could call Tessa and Teri. And then she could cry.

* * *

That day at work was sheer, unadulterated Hell. Staci took great pleasure in describing to Princess and Ginger, in exquisite detail, her goings on with Jason the previous night. All while Chloe was in earshot and unable to get away, of course. If Staci had been poking fun at him, as Chloe hoped she might since Jason was a bit below her normal quarry, it wouldn't have been so bad. In fact, that might have been somewhat painless. But instead, Staci described delicious things Chloe herself had asked him for during their relationship, but he'd never been game.

_How could he? Or did he only tell her to say it to get back at me? She'd do it... Staci would do anything to make me cry. Or did they really...? Maybe it was me... Was it because I just never interested him that much? What the hell is wrong with me?_

The second she got back to her apartment that night, she kicked off her shoes, threw herself on her bed, crushed Mr. Fuzzy the stuffed cat to her chest, and began dialing Tessa's phone number, as all the unshed tears of the day began to fall.

_Hi. This is Tessa..._

"Fuck!" she cried. "Why are you not home?"

_Obviously,_ _I'm not available right now. So leave a message and I'll get back to you. _Beeeeeeeeeeep.

"Tessa," she began, lip quivering. "Something happened... with Jason..." A sob broke her speech momentarily. "I need to talk to you... Where are you? I need ice cream... and cheese fries... Please call me back as soon as possible!"

She hung up the phone, instantly dialing Teri's number and praying her other friend would be home.

"Hello?"

"Teriiiiiiiiii!" she wailed.

"Oh, God... What happened?"

The whole story came out, amidst lots of sobbing, along with the fact that she couldn't get a hold of Tessa. "I don't know where she is and I _need_ to go out and lose myself in a huge bowl of sugar! And for that, I need you _and_ Tessa."

"Thanks..."

"It's nothing against you, Teri... But I have to have Tessa tell me what a bastard Jason is and... well... it's just not the same when it comes from you."

"I know. Tessa and I have different styles of comfort. Well, it sounds like she was with the Bitches last. Maybe we should call them."

"I'm NOT calling them," said Chloe. "If I call, they'll just try to get me to do something for them."

Teri groaned. "I guess I'll call them. I'll call you back, okay?"

"Okay..."

Ten tissues later, Chloe's phone rang. "H-hello?" she ventured, hiccupping loudly.

"God, you sound pathetic."

"Gee, thanks."

"Ginger and Princess have no fucking clue where Tessa is. They went out to a bar two nights ago and haven't seen or heard from Tessa since." She audibly shuddered. "Ugh... I _never_ want to call those two again. I don't know _how_ Tessa and Princess can possibly be related or how you put up with them on a daily basis. When are you going to come to your senses and work for me?"

"You can't afford me. The company doesn't give you the budget for an assistant."

"Valid point... Well, I tried calling Tessa just to be sure and she didn't pick up then either."

"I'm worried, Teri."

"Well, then at least you've gotten your mind off of Jason."

Chloe's wailing renewed. "That fucking basta-_hiccup-_d I'm going to fucking-_hiccup-_kill him! And I'll take that-_hiccup-_Staci and shove a f-_hiccup-_ing ice pick through her fuck-_hiccup-_g eyes!" While her hiccups had cut off some of what she said, she had no doubt that the message had gotten through to Teri. She blew her nose, foghorn-like, into a new tissue and sobbed. "This fucking-_hiccup­-_sucks!"

"Look, why don't we go out? I've got two tickets to that movie premiere you've been working your ass off for. Why don't we go?"

"I can't. Ginger will be there. If she sees me, I'm dead. I'm not supposed to have fun, I'm suppose to be her beast of burden."

"Fuck Ginger. You need to get out."

"She wants me at work early tomorrow morning to go over some things. If she sees me out tonight, having a good time, she'll only have to work that much harder to make me miserable the next day."

"Chloe, sitting at home with a box of tissues and thirty cartons of Ben and Jerry's is not going to work this time, I can tell. You're just going to brood over everything, getting more and more miserable, and end up somehow blaming everything on yourself the way you always do. That's not what you need right now. You need distraction."

"I need Tessa's foul mouth!"

"Fine!" said Teri, her comforting tone of voice gone. "You want Tessa? _I'll_ be Tessa for you!"

"Teri, wha--"

"You are I are going out tonight, whether you fucking like it or not! Because you know who else used to lock himself in his room? Howard Hughes, Chloe, and look where he is. Three hundred antibiotic shots in his fucking heel, one of them breaks off, and he _still_ dies of infection! And if you think I'm dragging your pus-filled ninety-eight pound carcass out of your over-sanitized apartment after you shoot your television, you're sadly mistaken! I'm _not _wearing tissue boxes on my feet, they don't make for stylish footwear! So, get the hell up, change out of your hospital gown, because it shows way too much of your non-existent ass, wash your hands forty-eight thousand times, and put on your fucking bio-hazard suit, because we're going out. And if you're not ready by the time I get there, I'll kick your sorry ass, you creepy recluse!" Click.

Chloe stared at the dead receiver in shock, wondering how she could shoot her television if she had died from an infection, for a full three minutes before she realized, "She lives ten minutes away... I've only got seven minutes to get ready!"

She jumped off the bed and hurried to the bathroom, not wanting to get beat because she didn't doubt for a second that Teri wouldn't do it. Teri enraged was a sight to behold... Chloe just preferred not to be on the receiving end of it.

To be continued...


	4. Help From, um, A Fairy?

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Four

"Will you stop swiveling your head like that?" said Teri as she and Chloe took their seats inside the lavish movie theater that had been scrubbed and polished for the event. "You look like an owl."

Chloe ignored her friend's less than flattering observation. "I'm looking for Ginger. They're seating all of the industry people together; she's bound to see me! I should leave..."

She grabbed Chloe's arm in a vice-like grip. "You're not going anywhere, Mr. Hughes." Dipping into the goodie bag she'd been given at the door, she pulled out a sweatshirt and baseball cap with the logo of the production company emblazoned across the front of them. "Here. Put these on and she'll never see you. It's not like you stick out like a sore thumb, Chloe. You're like all the normal, regular thumbs."

"Where do you get these analogies?"

"It's a gift. Now, sit down, shut up, and we're going to watch this movie."

Forty-five minutes later...

_"We know your husband was harboring information on our group, now tell us where to find the disk!"_

_"I don't know anything! Alexei will save me from you!"_

_"Ha! Let's see how talkative you become now..."_

_"Nooooooo!"_

A smash cut to Alexei inside a men's bathroom, cutting the wires of a bomb that's slowly counting down to zero. His head snaps up and he gasps dramatically.

_"Nancy! She's in trouble!"_

"This movie sucks, Teri."

"Yes. Yes, it does."

"If I had paid for my ticket, I'd be asking for my money back."

"You got a sweatshirt and a hat out of the deal."

"This movie sucks so bad, it's going to put Hoover and Dyson out of business."

"Didn't you think Philip Carter Grayson is cute? You own his version of Hamlet on DVD," Teri needlessly reminded her.

Chloe shook her head. "You cannot compare this movie to Hamlet, not by any stretch of the imagination. And yeah, he's cute; I met him when he came to Ginger's office."

"Is he that cute in person?"

"No, in person he's hyper-cute. I, on the other hand, was a sobbing mess and prefer not to relive the memory. But, with apologies to Mr. Grayson, 'cute' is not nearly enough to carry this movie."

"You've got me there."

"Shhh!" hissed some guy behind them.

Teri turned to look at him. "What? It's not like you're missing anything."

The man paused and conceded her point with a shrug. The two women watched Philip, as Alexei, engage in a car chase for about one minute before Chloe groaned.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Don't bother to tell me what happens when I get back."

"Don't worry. I doubt it'll be anything memorable enough for me to recap."

Even the trip to the upstairs restroom was uneventful. She didn't really have to go; she just wanted a break from the incredible stink-bomb that was the movie going on below. As she washed her hands in the sink, a heavy sigh was wrenched from her.

"Maybe I should just call a cab and go home," she muttered to herself. "I've already lost forty-five minutes of my life that I'm never going to get back."

She backed out of the bathroom, held the door open with her behind, took aim, and tried for a three-pointer with her wad of used paper towel.

"Yeah! Nothing but trash can!"

She turned to head back to the theater and, of course, as a result of not paying attention to where she was going, bumped right into someone coming out of the opposite facing men's bathroom. The bill of the baseball cap crashed directly into the guy's chest and fell off her head.

"Oops, sorry!" she said, bending to pick it up.

"Sorry about that," he said at the same time. Unfortunately, he also bent down to retrieve the hat, and they ended up bonking foreheads.

"Ow!" they cried in concert. Forgetting the hat momentarily, they both straightened back up, each rubbing their sore spot with the heel of one hand.

He recovered first and gave her a smile. "Again, sorry. If I hadn't been watching your shot, I would have moved out of the way." He bent down, picked up her hat, and extended it to her.

Chloe's eyes had gone wide. The hat in his hand completely gone from her mind, she pointed at the man she hadn't ever expected to see again after that horrible day at the office. "You're Philip Carter Grayson."

He laughed lightly. "Yes, I am."

"Your movie sucks."

At that, he laughed loudly and honestly. "Yes, I'm well aware. I'm sorry you've had to sit through this much of it."

"Why are you out here and not in there?"

"It's not obvious? I'm looking for an escape. Isn't that what you're doing?"

Her face reddened a bit. "Well... Yeah."

He checked his watch. "There's still plenty of time." He looked at her. "Want to go get a drink?"

She blinked. "A drink?"

"Yeah. I saw a bar across the street."

A thought for Teri flitted through her mind, but, with a mental apology to her friend, she shrugged. "Sure. After forty-five minutes of that movie, I believe I'm owed that much."

He laughed again and settled the baseball cap on his own head. "Is it okay if I borrow this for now?"

"Knock yourself out. I was using it to hide, too."

He gave her a strange look. "Okay... Let's go."

* * *

When Chloe's sweet, frilly pink drink had been set before her, she turned to Philip and raised her glass. "What should we drink to?"

He pondered for a moment. "Let's drink to the last shred of hope I have that this movie won't tank my career."

"Amen." She touched her glass to his. "So, tell me why in God's name you would make this movie. You won an Academy Award. You shouldn't need to sell yourself out to crappy movies."

"That's the thing," he said, after taking a long sip of his Amaretto Sour. "I made this movie _before_ the one that got me the award. This movie wasn't going to be released. It was never supposed to even leave the can. But now that I've got some sort of notoriety, the guys behind it think they can make some money off me. The sad part is, they're probably right, and there are going to be a lot of people wondering why they paid nine dollars to waste two hours of their life."

She shook her head. "Try to be optimistic. It might end up becoming a cult classic. Every actor has crappy movies in their closet. Just don't put it on your resume. Maybe they'll forget." She gave him a sympathetic look. "If nothing else, you've got your looks."

He laughed self-consciously. "Heh, sure."

"I have to tell you, it's really hard to sit here and not freak out."

"Why?"

Her face reddened and she took a gulp of liquid courage. "I've seen just about every stage show you've been in. Even the non-equity one you were in illegally."

He laughed again, clearly pleased and very embarrassed. "Really?"

"Yep. I may look calm on the outside, but on the inside I'm going, 'OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!'" She demonstrated this last in a high pitched squeal, arms flapping like a crowing rooster, before perfectly composing herself once again and presenting him with a blithe smile.

He shook his head, still laughing. "Well, thank you. I hadn't realized it was so exciting to be in my presence."

She tilted her head at him, incredulous. "You honestly have no idea how attractive you are, do you?"

"Careful. Your fan-girl is showing."

She made a show of looking for it, glancing all around and checking under her barstool. She grinned at him when he shook his head again.

"So, why isn't your girlfriend here tonight? Or did you ditch her in the theater?"

He groaned lightly and rolled his eyes, taking another long drink. "She's not here. She informed me recently that she's going to be unavoidably detained for the next fifty or sixty years."

"Ouch... Was it the name thing?"

"Name thing?"

"It's fairly common knowledge that you can't remember anyone's name. Which is why, I'm guessing, you haven't asked me for mine." It was already plain to her that he didn't remember meeting her at Ginger's office, or he would have said something. She was fine with that and didn't remind him. She had no desire to be known as 'the crying secretary.'

"Oh... Right." He looked mildly embarrassed again, with the air of someone who knows he's done something wrong, but couldn't help it. "That might have been part of it, but we were never especially close to begin with. No real chemistry, besides our physical relationship."

"I sympathize. In fact, I empathize." She extended her left hand and showed him the tan line her missing engagement ring had left behind.

"Were you broken up with by fax, too?"

She winced. "Ow... No, he did it in person. But it _was _five days before the wedding."

"Ding, ding! We have a winner!" he said in a deep, cheesy announcer's voice as he raised his hand toward the man behind the bar. "Bartender, another round!" He turned back to her, his brow furrowing sympathetically. "So, what was the reason? Do you have a 'name thing,' too?"

She laughed lightly, but decided against telling him the 'we-ness' story. "No. Actually, Jason used to treat me really decently, which was why I agreed to marry him. But he was... different, after we got engaged. Still, I thought things would be better after we got married. Now I'll never get to find out. I guess it's for the best, though."

He looked at her very seriously. "Let me tell you something... I know that most women believe in the strange and magical restorative powers of marriage, but in complete and utter honesty, we men don't change when we get married. We only get worse. Don't ever marry someone thinking things will change for the better, okay? Because more often than not, you will be very disappointed. And you're way too good of a person to end up stuck with an asshole like that guy sounds to be."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You've known me for less than an hour."

"My first impressions are usually correct."

She thanked the bartender as their second round was brought to them. Raising her glass, she said, "Well, here's to the Lonely Hearts Club and its two newest members."

"Cheers," he said, touching his glass to hers. "We should get tattoos."

She looked scandalized. "On this body?" she said, indicating her own.

"What's wrong with it?"

She blinked. "Okay, let me put it to you this way... A friend of mine got a little kitten tattooed on her butt back in high school. And then, over the years, it became this big _tiger_."

He pondered that for a moment, and then snickered. "That would actually be kind of cool."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You know, the more I talk to you, the more I realize you're really just a normal, regular guy."

He tilted his head at her. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome," she said, grinning, and took another sip of her drink. "My name's Chloe, by the way."

He made a face. "Ah, damn! Now you've told me, I'll _never_ remember."

"You seriously can't remember a name to save your life, can you?"

He placed one hand to his heart. "If I was standing on the edge of a cliff and my last girlfriend had a shotgun pointed at my chest and she told me to speak her name, I would be a dead man. It took me the first seven years of my life to learn my own mother's name."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Mummy."

"You have _got _to be faking this."

He held both hands in the air. "I swear on my mother's name, whatever it is, that I'm not. Look..." He squinted at the ceiling, twisting his mouth to one side. "My last girlfriend's name was... Elaine."

"No."

"Damn..." He squinted at the ceiling again. "Ella?"

"Strike two."

"Damn!" His brow furrowed. "It _does_ begin with an 'E,' right?"

"No wonder she broke up with you."

"I think it had more to do with the fact that her chauffer looked like Vin Deisel."

"You can remember Vin Deisel's name and not your own mother's?"

"I've never _met_ Vin Deisel. But rest assured that if I ever _do_, I will instantly forget what his name is."

"I don't get it. How can you memorize the entire script for _Hamlet _in three days, and yet be this way? Ophelia, Horatio, Rosencrans and Guildenstern, they all fell trippingly on the tongue, didn't they?"

He smiled with some self-derision. "I can remember _fake_ names without any problem at all. It's a person's real name that will fly in one ear and out the other."

She shook her head. "Were you dropped on your head as a child?"

"I've suspected, but it's never been proven. I've also looked into the possibility of having lived near power lines or if I might have eaten lead paint chips."

She laughed. Chloe was enjoying herself so much by then, that she almost forgot who she was with. Time slid away as they continued to talk and when he happened to glance at his watch, he started visibly.

"Damn... The movie will be ending in just a few minutes," he said, bringing them both down to reality. He looked at her apologetically, which surprised her. "I'm sorry. I have to go. They'll all be expecting me at the after party to get my ass kissed." His face lit with sudden inspiration. "Will you be going?"

She almost said yes instantly, but then remembered herself. "Ah... I can't. My boss will be there and if she sees me, it's my ass on a platter. I'm not really supposed to be here."

"Oh, so that's who you were hiding from." Evidently reminded, he took off the baseball cap and handed it back to her. "Well, if you change your mind and think you could manage to sneak in, please come." The look he gave her then was heart-stoppingly grateful. "This is actually the first time I've really laughed in about a month."

"I'll... think about it," she said, not really wanting to say no.

"All right. I'll give the doorman your name."

Doubtfully, she raised an eyebrow at him.

He nodded. "Yeah, I don't think that will work either." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card of some kind. "Give this to whoever's at the door. That should get you in."

The slip of paper he had handed her looked a lot like the ticket Teri had given her earlier to get into the movie, only this one was bright yellow rather than white, and had 'VIP' stamped across it. She realized this ticket must have been meant for Emily Hodges... had she not broken up with him.

He shook her hand warmly. "In case I don't see you... Thank you for rescuing me. This was a lot more fun than sitting through that flick."

"Likewise," she said. "Though I think almost anything would have been more fun."

"Not at all," he assured her. "At the moment, I'd much rather be here getting soundly drunk with you than go to a party where everyone will tell me how great that crappy movie was." His smile became somewhat thoughtful. "You're different, you know? You're..." Whatever he might have said seemed to escape him as he glanced once more at his watch. "You're going to make me late. Once again, a pleasure."

"The pleasure's all mine," she said under her breath as he took his leave.

She sat there for a moment and looked at the card in her hand. An absurd urge to sing _I've Got A Golden Ticket _from the Gene Wilder movie suddenly popped into her head, but she resolutely shook that away.

_This is not the time, Chloe, _she thought. _Besides, you can't go. Ginger will be there. _Her hand tightened on her glass. _Staci will probably be there. JASON might be there. And you do NOT want to see him while wearing a baseball cap and sweatshirt from Allegory Pictures, Inc. You had a nice time with Mr. Grayson, just leave it at that. You can't go._

"You know, you really ought to go," said a slightly familiar voice as someone slid onto Philip's vacant barstool.

She turned to see who it was and her eyes nearly bugged straight out of their sockets. "D-Denise? What are _you_ doing here?"

She raised a rum and coke delicately in her manicured hand. "What does it look like?" She wagged a finger at Chloe. "You never called me, by the way. We were supposed to have coffee."

"Oh... Sorry."

She waved that away. "Don't even think about it. We'll have our drink now. So, tell me... Why didn't you take that delicious man up on his offer? He invited you, you should go. It's only polite."

"My tyrant of a boss is going to be there, most likely along with Jason and the bitch he's currently screwing. So, I'd get into trouble as well as be horribly embarrassed."

"I'm not sure I follow, entirely. What would be embarrassing about going to a premiere after party on the arm of the guest of honor?"

"Well, it's not like Mr. Grayson invited me as his date..."

"It looks like he gave you his date's ticket."

Chloe shoved the yellow paper into her pocket. "He might say hi to me, but that'd be it, trust me. He'll have a ton of gorgeous women around him the whole night. Besides, _if_ by some miracle I _was_ on his arm, wouldn't it be a little obvious to my boss that I'm there?"

Denise smiled, revealing her perfectly even, pearly white teeth. "Dear, if she thinks you might be there, she'll be poking her nose into every dark shadow she finds. The trick is to be right out in the open, shining so brightly that you blind her." She winked. "And, judging from Jason's behavior on the night you saw us, you might guess that I have some experience in this field."

Chloe giggled. "I suppose so." Her face fell a moment later. "It doesn't matter, though. I _don't_ shine. I'm not dressed for an after party. I don't think I even own anything that would be remotely appropriate."

"Let me guess... Your boss lets you wear sweats to work." At Chloe's nod, Denise shook her head disappointedly. "What if I told you that it could be taken care of?"

"What? Are you going to wave a magic wand and suddenly fix my appearance?"

She gave Chloe a small, feline smile. "Come with me."

* * *

The ride to Denise's salon was surprisingly short. Chloe barely had time to tell her what size pants she wore before Denise whisked away to a different room and returned almost instantly with an armful of clothing. Chloe was pushed into a large bathroom and told to get changed. She was certain the clothes wouldn't fit, Denise couldn't possibly have had something all ready to go like that for her, but when she put them on, the cut was remarkable; like they had been tailored for her.

The dark blue jeans actually fit her, a feat in and of itself. Chloe usually bought her jeans a few sizes too big to save herself the trouble of breaking them in. The silk and lace blouse was of a red jewel tone and it flattered her figure by cinching in her waist and draping across her chest, outlining her cleavage to its fullest advantage, but the effect was more tantalizing than explicit. Denise had even provided new underwear for her, a matching set in the same red as the shirt, with the bra pushing her breasts up to where they were supposed to be.

Finally, she picked up the most expensive-looking pair of shoes she'd ever been given to wear; strappy rhinestone heels. Sure enough, the label was a very exclusive designer's who only distributed through one factory. She thought they might be ridiculous paired with the outfit, but a look in the full-length mirror told her differently. She looked, for lack of a better word, stunning.

There was a sharp knock at the door, startling her out of her reverie. "Are you done in there? We still have your hair to attend to!"

Since any sort of chemical process Denise might have attempted would take hours, she merely brought out a wig and a hairpiece in a lovely caramel blond, highlighted with a few lighter shades and low-lighted with a rich chocolate color. Everything that Denise did to her was very quick and efficient. Chloe thought briefly that the job on her hair and makeup would probably look rushed, but as the chair she was sitting in spun around to face the mirror, her jaw fell slack.

"Is that me?" Since the reflection also said the same thing, she followed this with, "I guess so... Oh, my God, wow! I've _never _looked this good!" She turned her head in a few directions and watched as the blond wig artfully followed the movements. Her green eyes were huge and luminous, her lips looked full and utterly kissable. "I'm... I'm _hot_!"

"You say that like you didn't think so before."

"Well, it's not like I'm the best looking girl out there... I'm not elegant or anything, like you." Her face reddened, feeling embarrassed for having voiced such an opinion.

Denise smiled, though, looking quite pleased with the compliment. "Thank you. But you have an elegance all your own, Chloe. It's different for me, obviously. Unlike you, I can't just go around without makeup or my hair done. My elegance is, in a very big way, manufactured. You're a natural."

Chloe felt a spark of regret growing within her chest. "I'm sorry," she said.

"What for?"

"You're being so nice to me. I feel bad... for kind of using you to get back at Jason."

Denise shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I knew he was a jerk when I agreed to have dinner with him."

"If you knew, then why did you do it?"

"Sweetheart," she said with a grin. "You're talking to a man in a dress. I have my reasons for what I do, even if few understand them." She glanced at the clock. "Now, you need to get out of here. Be back by midnight."

"Midnight? Why?"

"You have to get up for work, don't you?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, midnight is the magic hour, darling. Leave before that and you're being rude. Leave after that and you've overstayed your welcome. Midnight is perfect. Besides," she added, pointing at the rhinestone heels. "Those are 'one hour shoes.' A couple of hours in those and you will be dying to get home and take them off."

Chloe shrugged. "Okay." She turned to go. As she opened the door, a taxi pulled up in front of her. She looked back at Denise who smiled.

"I called a cab while you were changing." She made shooing motions with her hands. "Go, go."

She smiled. "Thanks!"

Safely inside the yellow cab, Chloe waved at Denise as she sped off into the night.

To be continued...


	5. The First Ball

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Five

"There's a woman coming to the party," Philip was saying to the burly doorman at the front of the restaurant. "I want you to look for her, because she's not on the list. I invited her as my guest this evening."

"Yes, Mr. Grayson, sir," said the man. He poised a pen over his clipboard. "Tell me her name and I'll add it."

_Shit._ Philip winced; this was what he had feared. "Uh... It started with a 'C,' I'm pretty sure. It was... Carrie. No... Carly. No... Kelly--"

"Kelly starts with a 'K,' sir."

"Damn it! Well, it was a 'kuh' sound." Becoming more embarrassed by the second, he struggled on. "Um, she's tall-ish..." He remembered the bill of her baseball cap had crashed into his chest, but since he was pretty tall himself, he wasn't sure if that was considered tall for a woman, or not. "She was wearing a shirt of some kind... With dark-ish, light-ish hair...?" He ended his lame description in a question, hoping the details would prove helpful.

The man's eyebrows drew together as though he were trying to concentrate on a particularly difficult problem. "So... You'd like me to be on the lookout for a woman of slightly above average height, wearing a shirt, with hair of some sort?"

He sighed. This was not helping. The woman that'd gone to the bar with him, while he had considered her pretty attractive, was admittedly fairly average to most others. "Look, she's got a VIP ticket. Just let her in, will you?"

"Of course, sir." The man looked incredibly relieved.

As he walked into the crowded restaurant the film company had rented for the evening, Philip smiled broadly at those who gathered around him, but had a distinctly dismal feeling that the one person who'd made him actually smile for the first time in a while wouldn't show.

* * *

Chloe arrived about an hour into the after-party and things looked to be getting into full-swing, if the music spilling out into the street was any indication. The cabbie brought the car to a halt directly in front of the doors and just smiled at her when she attempted to pay him.

"No charge," he said. "Denise is a friend. I help her sometimes with her little pet projects."

Not sure how to respond to that, she thanked him and got out of the car. As he drove off, she took a look at the red velvet ropes and the line of people outside, which stretched all the way down the street for a way. She didn't see Teri and figured the industry people must have gotten in already.

_Well, at least I don't have to wait,_ she thought as she reached into the little red satin reticule Denise had given her.

However, before she had found her ticket, the doorman unhooked the rope draped across the sidewalk in front of her.

"Welcome to the party, miss," he said.

She blinked in surprise, but entered the building just the same. Before the doors closed behind her, she heard someone near the front of the line comment, "Figures... Just because she's somebody, she gets in without waiting..."

Not sure what she should be surprised about more, the fact that someone thought she was 'somebody,' or that the doorman had called her 'miss' rather than the ever-present 'ma'am,' she decided to forget both and made her way to the coat check. A smile spread across her features. _I guess it's true,_ she thought. _Clothes make the woman. I guess I do kind of feel like I 'belong'... Whatever that means._

She handed over the long black leather coat and the woman handed her a claim ticket and a tag that read 'Hello, My Name Is' along with a marker. Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Is this really necessary?" she asked, feeling decidedly kindergarten.

The woman shrugged, rolling her eyes. "They said it's for the benefit of the movie's star. Apparently, he can't be bothered to remember anyone's name."

_That's pretty assuming,_ thought Chloe, even though she probably had thought the same thing a few times after hearing the rumor. But after talking with Mr. Grayson, she knew she'd never think it again. She wrote 'C-H-L-O-E' on the nametag, then paused and stuffed it in the reticule. "Can I have a new tag? I messed this one up."

The woman handed her a fresh tag and on this one, Chloe wrote simply 'Miss C.' _No need to advertise that I'm here_, she thought. She stuck the tag on her chest, praying that Denise would forgive her for ruining the ensemble, and entered the large dining room.

The place was packed. Most of the tables in the "pit" area of the restaurant had been removed to allow for a spacious dance floor and a DJ at one end had a set up that boasted flashing multi-colored lights and a disco ball. Around this was a slightly elevated area, where the tables were all still intact, for those who wanted to sit. Servers milled about, carrying flutes of champagne and mixed drinks from the bar, bringing empty glasses back.

She didn't see Ginger or Teri... but she saw him. Sitting at one of the larger tables near the other end of the restaurant, surrounded by beautiful women, as she predicted he would be, and several powerful-looking men. Their eyes were focused on him, but his attention was elsewhere. Every so often, his head would swivel around, and he'd crane his neck to see over the crowd as though looking for something.

_He's watching for me,_ came the sudden unbidden thought, which she hastily shook away. That couldn't possibly be it. There's no way! But even as she thought it, his eyes settled on her and didn't stray.

She resisted the urge to look behind her to make sure it wasn't someone else he was looking at. She smiled at him as if to say 'Well, I'm here,' and he rose from his seat, quickly excused himself from the group he'd been sitting with, and began to make his way over to her.

_I don't believe it, _she thought, excitement mounting. _He really did want me to come tonight! Me! Plain, old Chloe Ashton!_

Before she could give it another thought, he stood before her, smiling and taking her hand. In this atmosphere, he looked even more delicious than he had at the bar. She was about to apologize for being so late when he said, "I don't think we've been introduced... I'm Philip Grayson."

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. _He doesn't recognize me! _she thought, outraged. _I left him like, an hour ago, and he doesn't recognize me! What the hell!_

"How do you do," she replied, taking her hand from him. "If you'll excuse me, I'm looking for someone." And leaving him open-mouthed behind her, she fumed off in the direction of the bar.

_Of all the stupid ideas... Why did I come here, risking my neck, just because he's hyper-cute and kind of a nice guy... I let a cross-dresser treat me like his own personal Barbie doll and then he doesn't even have the decency to recognize who I am! _Halfway to the bar, she slowed. _Wait a second... _Involuntarily, she snickered. It was actually pretty funny. _Well, I guess I can't really blame him. I _do _look pretty different, and we only spent about an hour together. I shouldn't expect him to--_

Her thought process was interrupted as a cosmopolitan rimmed in pink sugar was presented before her. When her eyes followed the arm extending it to her, she found herself looking at David Pinschlow, one of the many junior executives at the advertising company. She recognized him because she'd had to say Ginger was in a meeting several times, while this guy and her tyrannical boss were really screwing on her desk.

"Hello, there," he said to her, and it was only too plain that he hadn't the foggiest idea who she was. If he had, he would never have spoken to her. "Care for a drink?"

It was hard not to laugh, because the look he was giving her was aiming for suggestive, but on him it just looked smarmy. While Normal Chloe would have gotten flustered and politely searched for a way to decline and back away slowly, Miss C gave him a condescending look, raised an eyebrow as if to say 'you're way out of your league,' and walked off, throwing a casual "Excuse me" over her shoulder.

With her outside perfectly composed, inside she was giggling madly and turning cartwheels as she continued walking toward the bar. _I just totally dissed one of the junior execs! And it felt GREAT! Muahahaha..._

Her victory moment was cut short however, as someone roughly bumped into her shoulder and Chloe turned to see none other than the red-haired beast herself. Ginger threw a venomous look right at Chloe, freezing her in place, and she knew she was caught.

"Watch where you're going!" Ginger snapped, and she swiveled around to continue walking toward the ladies' room.

It took Chloe a few seconds to register what had just happened. _Not even _Ginger_ recognizes me! Oh. My. God! Hmm... _She looked around, having no trouble finding the esteemed guest of honor whom she'd previously deserted. _I wonder how far I could take this... _With a smile, she turned around and walked back across the restaurant to where Philip was just taking a glass of champagne from a passing server.

His expression was gratifyingly startled when she reappeared at his elbow.

"The person I was looking for didn't show. I'll talk to you," she said conversationally.

He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You sure run hot and cold, don't you?"

"What can I say?" she said, giving him a flirtatious look from beneath her eyelashes. "Some like it hot and... Well, I'm sure you know the rest." She smiled.

"I'm pretty sure I do," he said, returning her smile. "Well, once again, I'm Philip Grayson. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She extended her hand to him, palm down. "Miss C."

After a momentary hesitation, he seemed to catch on and took the tips of her fingers in hand, bending over her knuckles slightly, though falling short of kissing them. His half-smile indicated, however, that he was enjoying the playfulness. "Missy?"

"No. Miss C," she repeated, enunciating the words. "It's not my real name, so you should be able to remember it, right?"

"How did you know that?"

"It's fairly common knowledge, Mr. Grayson." She indicated the people around them. "I would guess that's why everyone here is wearing a name tag."

"Oh... Right."

_This is incredible,_ thought Chloe. _I'm charming and witty... As myself, all I can ever manage is sarcastic. Too much time spent around Tessa will do that to you... I wonder how long it'll take him to catch on that it's me..._

"So," she said, noticing that he glanced over her shoulder momentarily. "Shall I tell you how brilliant I thought the movie was, and how spectacular you were in it, or shall I tell you the truth?"

He laughed shortly and tossed back the champagne. "I'm well aware that the movie is garbage. It's nice to see someone else knows it, too." He gestured around them. "All these people... Falling over themselves to lie right to my face... Pretty sad, isn't it?"

She stared at him for a moment, taking in the slightly glazed eyes. Mentally, she calculated. He'd had two drinks with her at the bar, she guessed at least one more while she was being transformed, he'd just drank a glass of champagne like it was water, and chances were he'd probably had at least one drink on the way to the premiere. He was fit, he had a little muscle mass that would slow down the alcohol, but he wasn't huge, so if he kept this pace up, he'd be on the floor before the night was over.

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

He set the flute down on the tray of a passing server. "Not yet."

She leaned in to whisper, "Is it because of the movie?"

"What was your first clue?" He gestured toward the bar. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Can I get _you _a drink? I think you might need it more than I."

"We could get each other a drink."

She noticed for the second time that he was looking over her shoulder. She reached up and tilted his face back to her. "I'm down here, sweetheart. Are you with me, or are you waiting for someone else?"

"Sorry," he said. "I invited someone, but it looks like she's not going to show."

Chloe was taken aback. _He _was_ waiting for me,_ she thought. She decided then not to carry out the charade any longer. "Maybe she will," she said. "Philip--"

Someone else bumped into her from behind then, setting her off-balance in the tall rhinestone shoes. Luckily, Philip caught her by the elbow before she could fall. "Oops," said a voice that was only too familiar to Chloe. She didn't want to, but there seemed to be a gravitational pull that made her turn and look at Jason, who was dancing, if you could call the grinding movement that, with Staci.

However, Philip chose then to say, "Why don't we sit down? This isn't the best place to have a conversation."

Taking a deep breath, she managed to regain her composure and nodded. She led the way to the bar and ordered them two Amaretto Sours. "It's a pretty girly drink," she said, privately teasing him. "But I think you're man enough to even things out."

"...Thanks?"

"No problem." They took their drinks to an empty table and sat down. "So, you were saying something about how sad it is that all these people think you're God at the moment? I couldn't agree more. I can't stand it when people are kissing my ass," she said, dryly.

"Tell me about it," he said. "I just had mine waxed."

She stared at him. "Okay, first, EW. And second, owww! _Why_ would you do that to yourself?"

"Let me put it to you this way... If I didn't, I'd make Robin Williams look like a hairless Chihuahua."

"Ew!"

He laughed. "No, I'm only kidding."

"About the hairless Chihuahua part, or the waxing part?"

"Both. I don't like pain and I'm not that hairy. Thank God."

"You don't like pain? But you do your own stunts."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah. And this is my real hair."

"What, is it a wig?"

"No."

"Is it a piece? Because if it is, it's a really good one--"

"No! I mean the color!"

"Well, obviously!" she said. "Do you think this is _my _real hair?"

"What, is it a wig?" he asked, sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact, yes!"

"Oh..." He took a sip of his drink, looking thoughtful. "That's... strange."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you just seem... different."

"Thanks?"

"I mean different from all these people," he said, gesturing with his glass at everyone else. "You weren't afraid to tell me my movie doth suck o'rly much."

Chloe snickered.

"When I said it was sad," he continued. "I meant that it's sad all these people are so fake. They don't mean what they say, they just want a chance to grab at some glory, find favor with someone just little higher up. Later on, when the numbers come in, they can all claim they knew that it was going to tank and how terrible they thought it was. In fact, more and more recently, I find myself just wishing for something real."

"Are you kidding me?" asked Chloe. "Reality is harsh. Why do you think people involve themselves in Hollywood romances so much? Because it's the fairy tale. There's comfort in what is fake. People want to believe in something. When Brad and Jen broke up, my friend called and you'd think it had happened to her! When everything is fake, there's no skinned knees, no heartbreak. It's all perfect. Isn't that what everyone wants?"

"Let me tell you," said Philip. "I have been swimming in fake for a while now, and there is _plenty_ of heartbreak. It might look perfect on the outside, but that's only because there are about twenty people working behind the scenes to make _sure_ it looks perfect. You want to know why I looked so good with my last three girlfriends? Because my agent picked them out specifically to compliment my skin tone and style of dress. I'm really tired of having relationships that are only perfect on the surface."

"Actual perfection can't be obtained, that's why people believe in the fake. It's as close as they can get to perfect."

"I disagree. I think that people are so hung up on searching for what they think is perfect, they don't see that they already have it. I want to be able to _not_ be perfect for someone... and have them think that I am anyway."

"Ah... You want the _real_ fairy tale." Chloe smiled wistfully. "I used to believe in it, too."

"Used to?"

"Let's just say I've been hit in the face with reality a little too hard and I've been somewhat scarred. If I took off this mask of fake, everything that's making me look the way I am right now, you wouldn't even recognize me." She paused, seeing another opportunity to tell him the truth. "Or maybe you would... Philip--"

"Mr. Grayson," a smooth voice cut in.

Chloe inwardly groaned. Her boss _would_ have to butt in at the most inconvenient time. She turned to see not only Ginger, but Staci and Jason in tow as well. She had a momentary surge of victory when Jason's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets as he gaped at her. She was confident that he didn't recognize her either when he took her hand and leaned over it.

"Enchanté," he said, butchering the French word.

She pulled her hand out of his grasp before he could lay a kiss across her knuckles. "It's a hand, not a bone, dog-boy. No slobbering." It was particularly satisfying to see the stunned expression this cutting remark gave him, as well as Staci elbowing him in the stomach.

"You're missing out on your own party, Mr. Grayson," Ginger said, seemingly ignoring the exchange. Her amethyst eyes slid to Chloe, her smile sweet but her gaze shooting a vicious warning. "It's not nice to commandeer _all _of the guest of honor's time, honey."

"Is that right?" said Chloe. She finished the last of her drink and stood. "I'll be back later, then."

"Oh, going to the ladies' room to powder your nose?" said Staci, sweetly.

Chloe looked over her shoulder at the two barracudas. "No, _honey_. I just can't stand the company." She looked at Philip, who had also stood. "Mr. Grayson, if you'll excuse me..."

She was half-way across the room when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Panic gripped her for a moment, sure that Ginger or Staci had recognized her, but when she turned, it was Philip who had caught up to her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought we were just having a friendly debate... Did I say something to offend you?"

She blinked, then smiled, amused. "No, hon. It's just that, in addition to the fact that I find the company that is now 'commandeering your time' somewhat distasteful, I have to pee. We girls _do_ go pee, you know. Sometimes we even do it alone. Unless you wanted to come with me, although there may be one or two people who might put up an argument..."

He smiled, seeming to relax at her teasing. "Oh... You will come back, right?"

She patted his face. "Sure. I think I can do that." She turned and left him for the third time that night, stomach turning flip-flops.

In the privacy of the little stall in the ladies' room, Chloe tapped her feet excitedly on the floor. She couldn't help it; it was exhilarating to know that one of her favorite actors, no... that Philip enjoyed her company. He could have his pick of any beautiful woman in the room, and he wanted _her _to come back.

When she returned, she found Philip seated at a larger table with Ginger, Staci, and Jason. His eyes went wide when he saw her approaching, telling her without words, _Save me now, please! _She smiled, not even able to fathom how many times she had thought that very sentiment.

She stopped before the table and extended her hand to Philip. "Let's dance," she said, interrupting what Ginger was saying to him about the ad campaign.

As he gratefully took her hand, the red head's eyes flashed fire at her. "We were in the middle of a conversation, _honey_."

Chloe shrugged. "Too bad." She pulled Philip to his feet and walked with him out to the pit.

Philip leaned down and buried his face against her shoulder for a moment, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. "You really don't care who you piss off, do you?" he said when he straightened back up.

She smiled. "I have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing her. She deserves it."

"Did you notice her nametag?" he asked. "She dots the 'i' with a little heart."

"In my experience," said Chloe, saying so because she _did _have personal experience with Ginger, "the cutesier the signature, the bitchier the woman is."

He stared at her, then shook his head. "There are rules you women have that I will _never _understand."

With her arms wrapped around his neck, she pulled him closer. She could smell the liquor on his breath and figured that, were he not leaning on her, it was unlikely that he would be able to stand on his own. He was pretty drunk, but still trying to keep his composure.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said.

"Ask away."

"Have you ever met anyone where you just wanted to cut out all the small talk and conversation, and just make out with them? Just shove them up against a wall and have your way with them until they cry out for release?"

His eyes went very large and he stared at her, his mouth falling open. "...What?"

She continued to pull him closer until their lips were scant inches apart. The heat from his body radiated through their clothes to her and she swiveled her hips against his to the beat of the music. "I'm serious. Someone you wanted to skip all the bullshit with and just go at it. And it wouldn't even matter if you were in public or not."

"Um... I..." he stuttered.

She smiled, pulling away to a slightly more decent distance. "I didn't think so." She glanced at her watch over his shoulder; 11:28pm. She had to leave if she was going to be home by midnight. "Unfortunately, Mr. Grayson, from here you will be on your own. I have to leave."

"Leave? It's still early."

She shrugged. "And that's why I have to leave." She winked at him. "More mysterious that way, don't you think?"

He smiled. "Sure." He pulled away from her and extended a hand. "Thank you for an hour and a half of good company."

"The pleasure's all mine," she said, taking his hand. His palm was warm, smooth. _You're never going to have another opportunity like this again, _she thought, suddenly. _Do something daring! _Acting on impulse, she tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him to her, kissing him soundly on the lips, with tongue and everything. After a moment of initial shock, he relaxed into it and just a few seconds after he did, she pulled back, smiling at his dazed expression.

"Thanks," she said, meaning it with everything she had. A familiar sense of imminent danger niggled her senses and she glanced at the tables to see Ginger storming over. She looked back at Philip. "Gotta go." And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

As she collected her jacket from the coat check, she privately celebrated, unable to stop smiling. _I'm _so_ glad Denise convinced me to come tonight. This has been the most awesome party ever! _

It was a little sad to know that, come morning, she'd be back to taking everyone's crap, but nothing Ginger, Staci, or Princess could ever do or say would wipe this memory from her mind. For one night, _she _had been the superior one.

As she was being shown through the front doors, a group of people also walking out jostled her slightly as they were forced to move to one side as another group was coming in. Again, she almost lost her balance, but the person she had bumped into steadied her. She looked up to see a blond man scowling after the people who had just gone inside. Something about him unnerved Chloe, because it wasn't just annoyance in that expression, it was... malice? The look didn't quite mix with his appearance, and that only served to make him more unsettling. How did someone who looked so mid-western also manage to look so threatening?

He looked down at her then with clear blue eyes, the hard look changing subtly to one of interest. She realized then that while she'd been staring, he'd maintained his hold around her waist. Instantly, she righted herself out of the intimate position, embarrassed for not doing so sooner.

"Sorry," she said.

"Why?" he asked, smiling when she had no answer. "Got the time?"

"That depends," said Chloe, still in 'flirt-mode.' "Time for what?" Now, he was the one without an answer. She had the distinct impression it wasn't often that someone one-upped this man. "I guess not," she said and headed off to hail a cab. "Thanks for the help... Hector," she added as she glanced at his name tag.

For five minutes, she tried to hail a cab. She glanced at her watch as the third one passed right by. _Geez...If cabs won't even stop for a gorgeous woman, no wonder I had so many problems in my normal attire._ It was 11:39pm, if she didn't get a cab soon, she wasn't going to make the midnight curfew and she was only too aware that she needed to be awake at five in the morning.

A hand tapped her on the shoulder. "Need a ride?"

For a split-second, she almost expected it to be Philip, but she turned to see Hector standing behind her, a lit cigarette in one hand.

"My mother always told me not to accept rides from strangers," she said with a coquettish smile.

He glanced around. "I don't see your mother here," he said.

"Neither do I."

"That makes it all right then, doesn't it." He didn't make it a question.

She pursed her lips slightly, snapping herself out of 'flirt-mode' for a moment. "If you take me home, you're not going to be invited in and I'm not interested in playing in the car, either. Still want to drive me?"

If anything, her statement only seemed to interest him more. "Is that right?" He paused and took a long drag off his cigarette, then threw it in the gutter. "Okay. Let's go."

The clock was ticking, so she went with him to his car. As they passed the group he had walked out with, he nodded a curt farewell to an older woman with gray hair, but Chloe was only afforded a quick look at the others as she hurried after him.

She gave Hector her street name and they took off in his sleek black car. 'Took off' was a rough term... 'Rocketed' was more accurate. Unable to help herself, Chloe grabbed the door handle as he sped around corners and chanced yellow lights. Thank God it was late and there weren't as many people out.

"Do you always drive like a maniac?" she couldn't help but ask.

He looked at her quickly, but then laughed slightly. "I'm a little pissed," he said. "Someone we were waiting for never showed. I guess it's coming out in my driving." His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "He'll have it in when I get a hold of him..."

Chloe glanced at him and shivered. Something about Hector was rather primal. In the right guy, that could be really sexy, but with him... it was kind of creepy. Again, she couldn't put her finger directly on it, but she was unnerved by him.

"I can walk it from here," she said when he stopped on her street. She had the distinct feeling that he shouldn't drive her up to the apartment.

"Are you sure?" he said, eyes narrowing a bit.

"Yeah," she said, opening the door of the car. As she reached for her reticule, his hand snaked out and grabbed her arm, tightly, but not hurting her. Even so, her eyes gave him a warning. "Hey, I already said you're not going to get any..."

"I know," he said, smiling, but the flash of teeth was far from friendly. "I just thought I'd say goodnight."

He turned her hand over and slowly leaned down, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. A shiver tripped down Chloe's spine... but then his tongue darted out, licking the same place, and the shiver turned to the feeling of ants crawling over her. She pulled her arm back, distinctly creeped out.

"Uh... thanks. For the ride," she clarified as she quickly got out of the car. She waited for him to drive away down the street before she went all the way up to her apartment door. For the first time all night, she realized her feet were aching.

"Denise wasn't kidding," she said. "Two hours in one-hour shoes is not fun..." She sat on her bed and took them off, discovering the right one had left a half-moon shaped bruise on the outside of her foot. "Ouch..."

Suddenly, taking off her clothes seemed like too monumental an effort to make, so she lied down and pulled the covers over herself. The numbers on her bedside clock changed to 12:00am just as she closed her eyes.

* * *

_Thank God_, thought Tessa as she looked at the unmoving figure beside her. _Jeff's finally asleep..._ Tessa knew that when he had brought her over to pick up her car, she wouldn't be leaving right away, but the man was an animal when it came to sex! Very carefully and slowly, she eased herself out from under his arm.

_This is not normal, _she thought as she searched for her clothing. _He should have lost interest... He says he's not stalking me, but... I have to talk to somebody about this._ After finding one of her shirts, she tiptoed out into the main room and picked up Jeff's phone.

It wasn't until she'd already dialed Teri's number that she realized it was way after three in the morning. However, Teri didn't even answer her phone. After five rings, Tessa hung up. "Of course she wouldn't answer, she sleeps like the dead," she said to herself, then clapped a hand over her mouth. She listened intently, but no sounds came from the next room, so she dialed Chloe's number.

The phone rang three times before it picked up. There was a shuffling noise, then Chloe's groggy voice. "Somebody better be dead," she said, her words slurring together.

"Chloe, shhh!" She couldn't take the chance that Chloe talking too loud would wake Jeff either.

"Shh? Who is this?"

At least she sounded more alert. "It's Tessa!" she whispered.

"Tessa... Why are we whispering?"

She winced, but told the truth, despite what she knew her friend would think. "Because I'm trying not to wake someone up."

"Oh, Tessa," she groaned, predictably.

She could worry about what Chloe thought of her promiscuity later. "I have a problem," she said. "I think it's a big problem... but I'm not sure. It may not be a problem at all..." She let out a frustrated sigh, aware that even if Chloe weren't half-asleep, she wouldn't be making much sense to her. "I have to talk to you and Teri."

"Are you pregnant?"

"No!"

"Then why did you have to call me this early? Why didn't you call _Teri _at three-thirty in the morning?"

"I tried. She probably slept right through the phone ringing."

"Well, I'm not going to talk to you about this now."

"Why not?" If she had to, she could pull out the fact that Chloe owed her for taking out the three bitches.

"It's three-thirty in the fucking morning!"

"Shh!" But she had a point.

Chloe sighed; Tessa could tell she was becoming more awake as she tried to think of a solution that would make everyone happy. "Look, why don't you meet us at Le Chere Canard for lunch tomorrow... Er, today."

"They have lunch there?" Tessa had never been to their favorite restaurant for the lunch shift, she was always working.

"This may be news to you, Tessa, but life does not start at dinnertime."

"Shut up."

"Oh, wait; you have to work, don't you?"

Tessa glanced at her heavily bandaged hand that was beginning to throb again as the painkillers were wearing off. "No. I can't type for at least a week."

"What? Why?"

There was a sound of a body moving around on the bed in the next room, and sheets rustling. Tessa muffled the phone and went very still for a few seconds, but it definitely sounded as though Jeff was waking up. She uncovered the phone and whispered rapidly, "I have to go. I'll explain later."

She hung up the phone as Jeff opened the bedroom door, in all his naked glory. Her mouth watered as he smiled sleepily at her. "Hello, beautiful... Why are you out here and not in bed with me?"

"I had to pee," she said. "Problem?"

"Yes," he said, coming over. He wrapped his arms around her and turned his face to her neck for a moment. "You are wearing way too many clothes..." he murmured, his lips against her skin. "I'll have to fix that."

There was no way she could argue as he pulled her back into the bedroom.

To be continued...


	6. Why He Got There Faster

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Six

Chloe stared with Teri at Tessa's rapidly departing figure, practically running out of the restaurant.

"Teri?"

"Yes?"

"Why was Tessa eating a live cow?"

"I don't know."

Chloe poked at the remains of the dripping burger with the opposite end of her fork. "This is... gross. She shouldn't have liked eating this... Anything with flavor to it makes her gag."

"Hey, I understand it about as much as you do."

Jeff came out of the kitchen then, and Chloe straightened. "Ah!" She indicated Tessa's vacated chair with her fork. "You, sit down, now."

A bit uncertainly, he came over, but didn't sit. "Where's Tessa?"

"We'll be asking the questions here," said Teri.

"...okay."

"That's more like it. Now, let me tell you something, Jeff... Tessa has a track record with men." Teri raised an eyebrow at him, intimidating as a school principal reprimanding a wayward child. "You're not going to be following that track record, _are you?_"

His eyes were rather wide. "No, ma'am."

"Good answer," said Chloe. "Because we will not be held responsible for our actions if you do." More kindly, she added, "We don't want to see Tessa hurt again."

He looked each of them straight in the eye before he answered. "I promise the both of you, nothing will happen to Tessa while I am around. Now will you tell me where she is?"

"Oh, she ran out a couple of minutes ago," said Teri.

"What?"

"Yeah, she seemed upset."

Jeff turned and began rushing from the restaurant.

"Hey!" called Teri. "What about our check?"

He pulled it out of his apron pocket and tore it up. "On the house!" he said as he ran out the door.

The two women sat there for a moment.

"Chloe?"

"Yes?"

"What just happened?"

"I'm not sure. But we got a free lunch."

"Can't argue with that." Teri stabbed her fork into her French fries. "How about we talk about something else?"

"Like what?"

"Like you _ditching_ me."

Chloe winced. She'd wondered when this would come up. "I'm sorry..."

Teri exploded like Chloe hadn't even said anything. "You said you were just going to the bathroom! Do you have any idea how crappy the movie I had to sit through was? And on top of that, you left _me _to deal with Ginger! NOT cool, Chloe!"

"I really am sorry, Teri! I _did _go to the bathroom, but then I met... a guy." She stopped herself just short of saying Philip's name.

"You met a guy in the bathroom?"

"No! Just outside."

"At least you didn't meet him at a bar..."

"Well... We _went_ to a bar..."

"Oh, God, tell me he's not a waiter!"

"No, he's not a waiter." _Though he's played one on TV._

"Fuck, everybody's getting some but me." Teri chomped a fry viciously. "This is NOT fair."

"Hey, I didn't say I 'got some.'"

"Well, did you?"

"No!"

"Then what the HELL did you ditch me for!"

Chloe paused. "He was cute, Teri."

"'Cute' does not make up for it."

"And... for a while, I totally forgot about Jason."

Teri groaned. "Aw, damn... Don't do that. That means I'm not allowed to be mad at you. And I really, _really _want to be mad at you right now!" She glanced at her friend's apologetic face and sighed. "Fuck..."

"I _am _sorry, Teri--"

"Yeah, yeah..." She devoured another forkful of fries. "All right, tell me about the guy you met."

Chloe hesitated. "Well... He was... pretty normal, actually. Aside from being hyper-cute."

"As hyper-cute as Philip Carter Grayson?"

She grinned. "I think... even cuter."

* * *

The next morning, Chloe was just stepping out of the shower when the theme from _Titanic_ came tweeting from her purse.

_Oh, God..._ she thought as she glanced at her clock which read 5:31am. _There are only two reasons why they'd be calling me this early. Either they are going to the office early to do their own work for once, which is highly unlikely, or... they haven't gone to bed yet._

With reluctance, she picked up the pink phone. "Chloe Ashton."

"Chloe!" came Princess's high pitched voice that always seemed to end in an exclamation. "You need to come pick me up!"

"What? What about Tessa? Why the hell hasn't she picked you up already?"

"You think I haven't been _trying_ to get a hold of her? She's not picking up her phone! Come on," she wheedled, making her voice, if possible, even whinier. "You do it for Staci! Come and pick me up! Oh, but don't pick me up in that piece of crap you drive, I _hate_ that fucking car... Go down to the office and pick up a company car--"

"I'm _already_ going to the office; I have to be there for _work _in a half hour! I don't have time to come pick you up." Chloe figured this was bullet-proof. Even Princess knew how Ginger was about her assistant being on time, she wouldn't dare--

"Oh, I'll make Ginger _understand_..." said Princess. "Now, shut up and come get me! I really don't want to be stuck here any longer than I have to--"

"Fine, fine!" said Chloe, really not wanting to argue with her anymore. "Where are you?" _If she says she's at Jason's, I'm going to rip her larynx out..._

"Um... I really don't know."

"WHAT? What the fuck does that mean?"

"I'll find out! God, Chloe, there's no need to be such a bitch!"

As Princess went to get directions from whomever she had spent the night with, Chloe took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to maintain. She really didn't want to lose her voice again by screaming 'bitch' into the phone.

It was nearing six in the morning, the time Chloe was supposed to be at her desk, when she picked Princess up from the townhouse of some guy who, fortunately for Princess, Chloe didn't know. She hadn't had time to put on a stitch of make-up or dry her hair, let alone style it. How Princess managed to look so perfect even though she'd probably not had much sleep, Chloe had no fucking clue.

The stick-thin petite blond stretched out in the back seat with a contented smile, not bothering to thank Chloe for picking her up. _No, don't worry about it, _she thought, sarcastically. _And don't bother with a seatbelt either, I'll make sure to drive _really _safely..._ As she looked in the rear-view mirror at her passenger, she noticed that the light on Princess's vibrantly purple cell phone was blinking.

"I think your phone's got a message, Princess," she said.

In response, Princess threw the phone in the front seat, narrowly missing Chloe's head.

"You're the secretary, you answer it."

Resisting the urge to chuck the phone right back her, Chloe grit her teeth and pressed the 'missed calls' feature.

Tessa's voice came through the speaker. _"Princess, this is Tessa. Tell the boss I'm going to be out a little longer. I'm going up to Nana's house for a while." _Click.

Chloe furrowed her brow. Nana's house? Wasn't that in upstate New York? She looked at the little screen; the call was made early this morning. _Pretty sudden decision... I wonder what's going on?_

"Well?" asked Princess.

"Uh, it was Tessa," said Chloe. "She says she's going up to your grandmother's house for a while."

Princess made a rude noise through her nose. "So, that's where she's disappeared to."

"Don't you wonder what she's gone up there for?"

"No, and I don't care. She should have thought about what _we _were doing before just taking off like that. That was so _rude _of her!" Princess raised her head slightly and lifted an eyebrow at the back of Chloe's head. "Aren't you mad at her? I mean, I wouldn't have had to call you if she had been home, you know..."

Chloe recognized a Princess baiting tactic and instantly denied it. "No, I'm sure she had a good reason." She would never give Princess any ammunition to use against her friendship with Tessa.

After she'd dropped Princess off at her condo, to change and get some sleep and throw up her breakfast, it was after six-thirty. She returned the company car and started toward the building. If it had been any other reason but Princess as to why she was late, she could have pulled in some favors, had everyone lie for her, and say she was on time. But since Princess would be sure and tell Ginger, the redhead would take great pleasure in making Chloe work an extra thirty minutes tonight.

_She usually does that anyway, but when she feels she's justified, I can't bitch about it, _thought Chloe, bitterly.

A crumpled figure at the entrance stopped her in her tracks. _Oh, no_, she thought, thinking that some bums must have had a fight last night. The poor guy looked in really bad shape; he was still bleeding in some places. She hurried over, getting out a cell phone to call an ambulance.

"Hey, mister, are you oka-- JEFF?" Sure enough, their favorite goofy waiter was sitting by the doors, bruised and bleeding. "What the hell _happened _to you?" she asked as she helped him gingerly to his feet.

"Um... I fell." It looked like it was painful for him to even speak.

"Into what? A vat of knives?"

"No, I fell... at work. Some dishes fell on me."

"And they beat you up for that?"

"No!" He coughed rather violently. "Look, it doesn't matter... I need to find Tessa."

"You don't know where she is? Wasn't she with you last night?"

"Yeah. Do you know where she went?"

Chloe hesitated. She was getting the feeling that she probably shouldn't tell Jeff where Tessa was. She knew that Tessa hadn't been up to Nana's place since she'd died, she'd been with Jeff last night and now he had no idea where she was, and Tessa had probably decided to go to Nana's right after leaving Jeff. Only one solution made sense: Tessa was hiding. And she was hiding in the one place she found really safe.

"Chloe," Jeff said, urgency rising in his voice. "Do you know where Tessa is?"

"Um... I don't think Tessa really wants to see you right now, Jeff," she said.

"Probably not," he agreed. "But it is really important that I tell her something. If you know where she went, please, Chloe, you have to tell me."

Her eyes went wide. "You didn't give her... you know... an STD, did you?" Her eyes then narrowed. "Because if you have, so help me--"

"It's nothing like you're thinking," he said, though he didn't quite meet her eyes. He took her hands in his cut up ones and looked up at her, desperation plain to see. "Please, Chloe. _Please._ I love her."

She blinked. "Jeff... You've known each other for, what... a few days?"

"I know, I know. It sounds stupid, but it's true, I swear on my life. When you know it, then you _know_ it, right? And I have to tell her. Even if she never wants to see me again, I have to tell her."

Her resolve was wavering. _No! You _don't _want to believe that men are sweet! Jeff may be nice, but he's still a guy. And sure, Philip Grayson may be nice and sweet and cute--Stop it! He's a guy! And you can't trust any of them as far as you can throw them!_ But she as looked at Jeff, quite obviously in a great deal of pain, and only thinking of Tessa, not himself, she wasn't sure how much longer that argument would hold out. _Don't look at the puppy eyes, don't look at the puppy eyes... Oh, fuck... I'm going to pay for this..._

"All right," she said, relenting. "Tessa called her sister really early this morning and said she was going to their grandmother's house in upstate New York. If she got her tickets online, she might be on a flight anytime between an hour ago and this evening. Because the tickets were last minute, she'll probably have to switch planes at least three, if not, four times. But because it's Sunday, I doubt you'll be able to find any tickets this late until tomorrow..."

At his defeated expression, she sighed and pulled a pen out of her purse, along with some leftover clearance papers from checking out the car this morning. She hastily scribbled on one of them. "I could get in a _lot _of trouble because of this... Take this next door. It will give you clearance to use the company jet. Flying non-stop, you should get there before her. It's a one-way thing," she explained hastily. "They will drop you off, _only_. Is that okay?"

He nodded, his face strangely resigned. "Perfect." He reached for the paper, but she held it away, eyes narrowing again.

"If you hurt her, I will hunt you down and kill you."

He gave her a sad smile. "If I hurt her, and I'm still alive, I will hand you the gun myself."

Satisfied with that, she handed over the paper and watched him limp away.

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you let him borrow the company jet."

Chloe twirled her home phone cord between her fingers and sighed. "Teri, it's been a month since that happened. Can you please stop brow beating me about it?"

"It took balls, that's all," she said. "Either that, or somebody ate her paint chips that morning. You're lucky no one else had to use the jet that day."

"My stupid romantic sensibility is entirely to blame. I wasn't going to do it, I swear. But you should have _seen_ those huge brown puppy eyes... They could have stopped a train."

"Are you sure Tessa didn't say when she'd be back?"

"Nope. She just said 'a while.' She made it sound like Jeff was with her, though." She paused. "I hope they're all right."

"Don't worry, hon. When Tessa's ready to come back, she'll be back."

"You're probably right." She looked at the clock. "Well, I have to go. Work."

"Yeah, it's about that time. I'm meeting someone today who was a client of Ginger's." Chloe could hear the mile-wide grin in Teri's voice. "They were apparently dissatisfied with her work. Eeeheehee!" She composed herself before continuing. "So, I have to go in early to make sure all the proposals are in order."

"You mean you check your _own_ proposals? Gasp!"

"One of these days, I will get my own budget for an assistant and then you will come and work for _me_!"

"Yeah, one of these days. Talk to you later, Teri."

"Bye, hon."

* * *

Philip was one of those celebrities who prided himself on being able to drive, rather than rely on a chauffer. Besides, there was something definitely emasculating about not driving your own car. He cranked the stereo playing Aerosmith as he drove down the streets, headed for his meeting with his agent and publicist.

He wasn't particularly looking forward to it, because this meeting actually wasn't for the promotion of his crappy-ass movie, though he really wouldn't have relished a meeting for _that_ purpose, either. He'd made the mistake of telling his agent he wanted to try dating someone 'real' this time, thinking that the man would understand. Allen took 'real' to mean 'non-actress,' and in his infinite wisdom, he chose Ginger Carlyle, their publicist, as the best candidate.

"She's beautiful and knows how to fit in to the circles you travel in," Allen had told him last night. "She'll look absolutely stunning with you and you know her already. She's perfect!"

How could Philip say that 'perfect' was precisely what he _didn't_ want?

He pulled into the lot of one of the many Starbucks coffee houses that lined the street and donned a baseball hat and jacket in addition to his dark sunglasses. He stopped in front of the door and turned to lock the car with his clicker, but when he turned back around to go inside, someone coming out and carrying an armful of to-go cups crashed right into him. The hot coffee missed him completely, and instead splashed all over the woman's tennis shoes.

"Crap!" she exclaimed. "She'll have my head!"

She looked up, probably about to soundly tell him off, but instead her green eyes widened and the pissed off expression melted to one of surprise. Behind the dark glasses, his eyes were probably just as large, as he stared at the person whose words had echoed in his head ever since that night at the bar.

"Philip!" she exclaimed.

"You!" he said.

To be continued...


	7. Ruined Shoes and Coerced Into Lunch

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Seven

Chloe shook her head. "You have absolutely no idea what my name is, do you?" He actually looked embarrassed, and she made a dismissive gesture. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't have expected you to remember it, even if you _could_ remember names."

"No, I _do_ remember you," he said. "You never showed up at the party that night!"

She bristled slightly. "I did, too!" A thought occurred to her and she dug into her purse. She had dumped everything from the reticule in there after the party... "Ah ha!" She produced the 'Chloe' nametag and held it up for him to see.

"CHLOE!" he exclaimed. "That's it! Got it." He smiled, but then his brow furrowed slightly. "I didn't see you, though... If you went, why didn't you come over?"

She shrugged, shoving the nametag in her pocket. "You looked busy. And I kind of tend to be invisible." She raised an eyebrow. "Although, at times, it felt like I was standing right in front of you."

"I am _so _sorry," he said, looking even more apologetic than when he had dropped the coffee on her. "You must think I'm such a jerk for inviting you then not even seeing you there." He brightened. "Let me make it up to you. Let me buy you more coffee... Lunch...? New shoes?"

She smiled slightly, but shook her head. "That's very sweet of you, but it's really not necessary..." She hadn't meant to make him feel guilty, he didn't owe her anything, but of course, she couldn't tell him that _now_. "It's okay. I have to get back to work right after I get my bosses coffee." She turned to go back inside and groaned when she saw the line. She's already had to stand in it for about fifteen minutes... "Damn it... If I don't get back soon, she'll make me work through my lunch hour. Not that she doesn't already..."

"Why don't you just go across the street?" he asked. "There's no line at that donut shop..."

Her look was mockingly scandalized. "Are you kidding me? She wouldn't dare drink the toxic waste they serve at that dump. No, it has to be a grande double espresso shot soy latte, half-caf, no whip, light on the foam, with sugar free chocolate syrup only on top, not mixed in. Nothing less will do."

He gaped at her. "How do you remember all that?"

"It wasn't easy."

He looked at the line in the shop, then back at her. "If I can get you coffee in less than two minutes, will you come to lunch with me?"

She blinked. "You're coercing me into lunch?"

"Well, I... I'm not used to asking someone out. There's usually an intermediary."

"Ah..." She shrugged. "Sure, if you can get me coffee, you can have my lunch hour."

He grinned. "Done." He walked into the coffee shop, removed the jacket, glasses, and hat, then cleared his throat loud enough to be heard two stores over. "Excuse me," he said. "Can anyone tell me how to get to Cannon Street?"

A hush fell over the crowd. Philip spread his smile around the room like a sprinkler, and suddenly there was a mass exodus from the line to get coffee, over to where Philip was standing. Everyone was clamoring for an autograph on anything they could grab.

Chloe walked right up to the front of the line. She snapped her fingers in front of the entranced barista's face to get his attention back on his job. "Yo, Eddie, you can get his autograph in a minute, this is going to take some focus! I need a grande double espresso shot soy latte, half-caf, no whip, light on the foam, with sugar free chocolate syrup only on the top, not mixed in; a tall half-caf mochaccino, with whip, heavy on the foam, with a shot of sugar free vanilla; and a vente full-caf mudslide frap, no whip, with a dash of cinnamon and chocolate sprinkles. And if you get them wrong, so help me, no tip!"

The man jumped into action. When she looked over at Philip, she saw a thumb's up come from the center of the huge group of people. She had to admit, his plan had worked flawlessly. Her coffee was brought to her shortly, and she headed for the door.

"Hold on!" said Philip.

She turned to see him trying to break away from the group. Not wanting to bring attention to herself, she pointed at the coffee and made a helpless gesture. She had to get the beverages back to the office before one melted and the other two got cold.

"Okay," he said. "Meet me back here in... twenty minutes."

She figured he was guessing he could slip away by then, so she nodded and hurried out the door. It wasn't until she was actually in her car when she realized... Philip Carter Grayson was taking her out to lunch.

Her car practically flew down the street.

* * *

"Danny, I need you to work the desk for me," Chloe said after dropping off the three coffees and getting in return a load of work.

Daniel Peer, Ginger's other assistant, looked up at her with his gorgeous hazel eyes, a doubtful expression on his chiseled face. "I'm not really sure how to work the phones, you know that, and Ginger's not going to be happy if one of us is gone..."

"Yes, yes, but I need to take my lunch hour early today. It's important! I'm meeting someone."

Those eyes widened slightly. "Like... a date?" Danny had been the one to cover for her when Chloe was in the bathroom, crying her eyes out over Jason. Any sign that Chloe was getting over that whole mess was no doubt a welcome one.

"Well, we're going to lunch..."

"Is he paying?"

"I think so..."

"Then it's a date," he said definitively. "Go. I'll take care of things here."

"Danny, you're the best!" She hugged him tightly. "And the nicest and the cutest... No wonder Teri likes you so much." She pinched his cheek when he blushed.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, shying away. "Go meet your date!"

The phone rang then and Danny looked around frantically for the right button to push. Chloe handed him the phone and pressed it for him. She mouthed 'thank you' and blew him a kiss as he said, "Ginger Carlyle's office."

* * *

Philip frowned as a man answered the phone at the publicist's office. "I thought Ms. Carlyle had a female secretary?" he said.

"Oh, yes," said the man on the other end. "She's gone. I'm Ms. Carlyle's assistant. May I help you?"

"I see... Well, this is Philip Grayson."

"Yes, Mr. Grayson!"

"I need to reschedule today's appointment for after lunch. Something's come up."

"Of... of course, Mr. Grayson." The man suddenly sounded a little nervous. There was a pause as some papers were shuffled and it sounded like something fell on the floor. A muffled curse, and then, "Will one o' clock be all right?"

"That's fine. Thank you." He hung up his cell and smiled as he watched Chloe's tiny blue car drive up to the lot.

* * *

Her stomach did a funny little flip when she saw him smile as she pulled back into the Starbucks parking lot.

"I'm glad you came back," he said when she got out of the car.

"Really?" she asked.

"Well, I would have really felt like a jerk this time if I wasn't given a chance to properly make things up to you. First, I ignore you at a party I invited you to, then I spill coffee all over you then next time I see you." He shook his head. "My track record is not going well, is it?"

She waved that away. "Trust me, your track record is fine. I never would have thought in a million years that Philip Grayson would spill coffee on me. Hey, what do you think I could get on eBay for these shoes?"

He laughed. "Good one." He held open his car door. "Shall we?"

She looked at the luxurious interior and shook her head. "If I ride in your car, my shoes will ruin it."

"And?"

"And? That's leather from, I'm guessing, some expensive Italian cow. Forget it. I will not ruin your car just to assuage your guilt."

He shrugged and closed the door. "All right, let's go in your car."

"_My_ car?" She glanced behind her at the aforementioned dented, cluttered, dirty vehicle and shook her head again. "I could never live with myself if I knew you'd seen the inside of my car."

He spread his hands. "Then how will we go to lunch?"

"Your legs," she said, pointing at the long shapely appendages.

He glanced at them. "Yes?"

"They do work, right?"

"Yes..." he said, stretching out the word.

She smiled. "Then we can walk. There's a great hole-in-the-wall Mexican place right around the corner."

He blinked at her. "You want me to take you out for Mexican?"

"Sure. I have to be back at my work in an hour, so someplace close is ideal. Why not?"

"Oh... nothing," he said, but he looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Lead the way."

* * *

When they'd been seated amidst many fake palm trees in the tiny warm restaurant, Chloe received her first surprise as Philip ordered for them in fluent Spanish. After their curvy dark-haired waitress had left, she gaped at him.

"You speak Spanish?"

He half-smiled and shrugged. "Four years in high school."

"Oh... I took French. Everyone thought I was stupid since Spanish is more usable here in the U.S."

His expression brightened. "I speak French, too!"

"What?" Her eyes went wide; that was a fact that the papers had yet to exploit, so she had been completely unaware. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Five. Oh, unless you don't count English, then four."

"That's... incredible!"

He shook his head. "It really isn't. I memorize well, that's all."

"Except for names."

"Yep. Originally, I had learned them because I intended to travel someday and I wanted to be able to communicate with the people. When I discovered that I loved acting, I thought it would be perfect, since actors who make it get to travel all over, filming on location, promoting their movies in different countries, you know..."

"Right," she said. "But...?"

He nodded. "But... I hadn't known at the time that actors are so _busy_, they don't get much of a chance to explore the places they visit. It's always about the work. So, now I have a head full of Spanish, French, Italian, and German, and not much to do with it but place an order at a restaurant."

"Maybe someday you'll get to go there," she said. "I've always wanted to travel, too, but I've never been able to fund it. I always say that when I retire on my gigantic 401k plan, I'll go to all the places I said I would."

He smiled. "That's great."

She returned it, then tapped her index finger on the table. "All right, so give up the details. What other amazing things can you do that the world has no idea of?"

"Is this an interview?"

"No, I'm just curious." She shrugged. "It's kind of hard to explain... You know how I said you were really just a normal guy when I talked to you at the bar?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Okay, granted, speaking four different languages isn't what people would generally classify as 'normal,' but... it makes you more _real_."

"I think I know what you mean," said Philip. "It's like when I got to meet... um..." He furrowed his brow. "Okay, he was the first big name actor I ever worked with..."

Chloe sat straight up in her seat. "Alan Rickman?" she said, about an octave higher than normal.

"Yes, _the_ Alan Rickman," he said to Chloe's dreamy expression. "I worked all night to memorize the entire script. Not just my lines, but everyone's lines, so he wouldn't think I was some rank amateur, even though that's basically what I was. But then, when we were doing the first read-through, he messed up some of his lines, just the same as everyone. Suddenly, he wasn't _Mr. Richardson_," he said, saying the name in an overly reverent tone.

"Rickman."

"Right. He was just Alastair."

"Alan."

"Right, Alan."

"That's exactly it!" she said. "I find that the more I know about you, the more real you become. Less of a screen-god and more of a person."

"Then, I'd be happy to tell you more about myself," he said, with a smile. "Provided one thing..."

"What's that?"

"You have to tell me about yourself, too."

She winced. "You'll regret that. My life is boring."

"Cleo..."

"Chloe, but you were close."

"Damn... Thanks. Chloe, you have yet to bore me."

She half-smiled. "Thanks," she said, despite the fact she was certain she was about to. However, her curiosity about Philip was rapidly overruling her self-consciousness about herself. "All right, then, tell me... How many musical instruments do you play?"

"Counting the kazoo?"

She considered. "I don't know... Have you ever won any awards for kazoo playing?"

"Counting middle school?"

"Okay, count the frickin' kazoo."

He smiled proudly. "Six."

"No way!"

"I swear it's true. Kazoo, piano, violin, trumpet, drums, and guitar, though I haven't played the trumpet in a really long time..."

"Were you planning on being a musician?"

"No... The piano and violin were actually at my mother's insistence. Thought it would keep me out of gangs, or drugs, or something to that effect. The others I learned on my own, after I got tired of one, I'd pick up another, because by then, all of my friends were in band." He grinned. "So, how many do you play?"

Her face reddened slightly. "Um... One, I guess."

"Which one?"

She reddened even further and mumbled her answer.

"What?" he asked.

"Voice," she said, only slightly louder.

"You sing?" he asked, seeming delighted.

"NO," she insisted. "I do not _sing._ I warble. I do not claim to have any talent in the area. My singing is reserved for the shower and my car." There was no way he was going to get her to sing, especially not in the middle of a restaurant.

"Oh..."

He seemed a little disappointed, so she sighed and elaborated a little further. "I used to sing a lot in high school."

"What stopped you?"

"I would have thought the sentence was self-explanatory."

"Ah..." His expression changed to one of understanding. "Told you would never go anywhere with it, huh?"

"By my parents as well as my teachers and peers. I was convinced--"

"--That you had no talent," he finished for her. "That it wasn't lucrative, you should give it up and concentrate on finding a 'real job,' right?" He indicated himself. "Actor, remember? I've heard it all." He grinned broadly. "It really felt good to hold that award, look directly at the camera, and tell everyone how much I love my 'real job.'"

They laughed together as the waitress brought their food to the table.

"So, tell me about your family," she said as she dug into her taco salad.

"I thought everyone knew about my family," he said, dumping hot sauce all over his tacos.

"I'd like to hear it from you."

He shrugged. "Okay. I was born here in the United States, but raised in Great Britain, by my adopted parents. So, I have a dual citizenship..."

"Wait," she said, snickering. "You have a dual citizenship in the U.S. and Great Britain? You do realize that makes you Canadian."

He looked at her, oddly. "What?"

She nodded. "Sure, you take the United States and Great Britain, and put them together, and you've got Canada."

"I am not Canadian."

"What have you got against Canadians, eh?"

"Nothing. I'm just _not_ Canadian. I'd have to be part French, also."

"You _speak _French."

"I don't speak French-Canadian. Can I continue?"

She gestured for him to go on.

"Thank you. I tried looking for my birth parents when I got older, but nothing ever turned up. Since I had been abandoned, it was a little difficult to get information."

Her expression crumpled in sympathy. "That's so sad!"

He briefly lifted one shoulder. "Yeah... But I'm kind of over it. It's been too long, and Mum and Dad are great people, so I don't tend to worry about it."

"Did you just say 'Mum?'"

He sighed. "It's like when someone goes back home to the South and when they come back they're saying 'y'all' all the time. The accent sneaks in every now and then. Being an actor, though, I can generally turn it off when I need to."

"So, right now, are you talking the way you're comfortable, or the way you want me to hear you?"

He paused for a moment. "I'm not sure... I will say, though, when you work at a coffee shop in the U.S; a British accent gets you bigger tips."

"When did you work at a coffee shop?"

"I wasn't always successful."

"When you come back from visiting Mum and Dad, do you say lots of 'rather' and 'cheerio?'"

"Well, not to the extent you're thinking, probably--"

"'Bloody 'ell!'"

"I wasn't raised in those areas of Britain--"

"'Too right!'"

"Now, that's Australian!"

Chloe was grinning from ear to ear. "Good on ya, mate!"

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Okay, now you're just making fun of me..."

"I wouldn't do that," she said, looking scandalized. "Let me guess... Those aren't your real teeth, are they?"

He groaned and rested his head on the table, shaking it back and forth. "Just drive in the knife, why don't you?"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," she said. "So, is Grayson your birth name or your adopted name?"

"Neither, actually. I don't know my birth name, but my original adopted name is Reeves."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's just a little common. Christopher Reeves, Keanu Reeves..."

"Neither of whom you have met, I'm guessing."

"You would be guessing correctly."

"How'd you come up with Grayson?"

"You'll never guess... Batman comic books."

She stared at him. "You are _joking_."

"Well, I _was _a child actor... Besides, it seemed to fit. Dick Grayson was an orphan, too, granted, my parents weren't killed right in front of me, and every little boy wants to be Batman's sidekick... And I'm going to stop now before I seem even more of a dork than I already do. Tell me about _your_ family," he said with a smile.

She groaned, but relented. "My parents have been married for twenty-nine years."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, it would be, were they suited for each other. But since they aren't, I've been saying they should have gotten divorced for about ten years, ever since I was old enough to know better."

His look was sympathetic. "Do they fight?"

"Like cats and dogs. My mother frequently dragged me into it, too. I've got a younger brother who's psychotic and an older brother, from my mother's previous marriage, who's messed up, and we're all ten years apart. That way, we could baby-sit one another."

He laughed. "That's actually pretty smart. All I had were nannies and 'gentlemen's gentlemen'... That's probably one of the reasons I can't remember names. So many people came in and out of my life so often, it was like a revolving door."

"Believe me, having that many people under one roof was no picnic," she said. "On top of all that, my mother raised me as a strict Christian good-girl. No parties, nine o' clock curfew, church every Sunday in scratchy dresses, the whole nine yards. I even still have my virginity."

His eyes bugged. "Really?"

"Well... _Technically, _I'm a virgin."

His brows furrowed together. "What does that mean?"

She pondered how to answer that for a moment. "Basically, that I've done pretty much everything _but _the actual deed."

"You don't still live with your folks, do you?"

"No."

"Then why haven't you...?"

She shrugged. "When I moved out, I thought about it, but it just... was never the right guy, I guess. I was waiting for the right moment and it hasn't happened yet."

"Even though you were going to be married?"

She blinked. "I'm surprised you remember that."

He smiled. "Of course. We're in the club, right?"

"Right," she said, returning the smile. "No, it was just... never _right_, even with my ex. I told my friends that I wanted it to be special, but really, I figured that when I was ready, I'd know."

"Why would you agree to marry someone you weren't even ready to sleep with?"

She mirrored his one-shouldered shrug. "Because he asked?"

He shook his head. "It's not like I can talk. I normally just date who I'm told to date."

"Then, are you...?"

It was his turn to look scandalized. "Oh, God, no!"

She laughed. "Didn't think so."

They squeezed as much as they could into forty-five minutes, laughing and trading stories. Chloe was having such a wonderful time, it actually startled her when _Close to You _came chirping from her purse. Philip suddenly looked as though his tacos were not agreeing with him.

"What is _that_?" he asked.

"Ugh... The real world calling," she said. The text message said, WHY CAN'T I REACH YOU? GET BACK HERE NOW! "Apparently, there's no signal in here," she told him as she closed the phone. "I guess I have to get back to work."

"Oh," said Philip, staring at his empty plate. "Um... That is... I mean... I wanted to, uh..."

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

He had that same uncomfortable look he'd had when she suggested the restaurant. "Well, I just wanted to know if you, perhaps sometime, would maybe like to go out for something that is not entirely unlike dinner..."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Is this something that would be not entirely unlike a date?"

He began staring at the wall above her head. "Not entirely..."

"You're not very good at this, are you? _Why _are you not very good at this?"

"Like I said, there's usually an intermediary..."

Chloe was rather in shock. It sounded like Philip wanted to ask her out... Again! "Would it help if you spoke in the third person?" she asked when she'd regained her powers of speech.

He started to shake his head, then paused and looked thoughtful. "You know..." He straightened. "Philip would like to ask... um..." He halted again. "Celeste?"

"You're way off. Chloe."

"Ugh, damn. Maybe it won't work."

A thought occurred to her. "Maybe it will..." she said. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the 'Hello, my name is Chloe' sticker, and stuck it to the front of her shirt. "Better?"

He grinned broadly. "Much! Okay, Philip would like to ask..." He glanced at her chest. "...Chloe, if Chloe would like to go out for dinner sometime."

"Chloe wants to know why Philip wants to do this."

"Because Chloe makes Philip feel comfortable. And happy."

"Chloe is glad she makes Philip feel this way... Would this dinner be tonight?"

"Ugh..." He rolled his eyes. "Philip can't. Philip has a date to be at with many people tonight. It's not really a date, though... More like an audition."

"Explain?"

"I told my agent I wanted to date someone 'real.' He's trying to set me up with my publicist."

Chloe's eyes went wide. He was going out with Ginger? Ew. "Well, good luck with that."

"I don't really want to," he said, hurriedly.

She blinked. That almost sounded like he didn't want her to think he was playing her. "Well, then why are you going?"

He squirmed, looking uncomfortable again. "I kind of already said I would. I'm going over there after this to finalize things. In all honesty, though... I'd really rather spend more time with you."

Chloe, unable to stop herself, blushed. "Why?"

He tilted his head at her, curiously. "You really don't have that great an image of yourself, do you?"

"This from the man who has no idea he's hyper-cute." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I hadn't meant to say that out loud," she said in a rush.

"...You think I'm hyper-cute?" he asked with a boyish grin.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands.

"No, no, don't do that," he said. "You're covering up your hyper-cute face." He snickered.

"I am _not _hyper-cute."

"Sure, you are."

"Is this why you'd like to spend more time with me? To torment me?"

"No," he said, seriously. "Like I said, you make me feel comfortable. Normal. When I'm with you, I really laugh, I really smile. I don't have to be like _this_ all the time." His face split into the Crest commercial smile she'd seen him display on many a red carpet.

"Doesn't that make your face hurt?"

"Only the first fifty times or so." He dropped the fake smile. "So... Will you come to dinner with me?"

She pretended to think it over. "I'll have to check my schedule..." At his dumbfounded expression, she laughed. "Of course I will."

He smiled, really smiled. "That's wonderful. How about Friday night? Eight o' clock?"

"Sounds great."

"And _I'm_ picking the restaurant this time."

She laughed again. "Sure."

_Close to You _began playing again and she rolled her eyes.

"I guess I can't keep you from the outside world any longer," he said.

She nodded. "If I stay, I'm risking big trouble."

He laid down a wad of cash on the table, which he didn't bother to count, and they both got up to walk back to their cars. On the way, she peeled the sticker off her shirt and handed it to him.

"Maybe you can stick it on your sun visor, or someplace where you'll see it a lot, and that'll help you memorize it."

He shook his head. "I doubt it. At best, I'll start calling you 'Hello, my name is Chloe.'"

They laughed. She unlocked her car door, stuck one foot inside, then turned back to say goodbye. "All right, I'll see you on Friday."

He nodded, then paused. "Wait, give me your phone number so I can tell you where we're going."

She debated, then decided on giving him the number for the silver phone. She received more personal calls on that one.

He entered it into his cell, then smiled. "All right. I'll call you soon." Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her.

Time _slowed_. It was just one of those quick, casual, goodbye kisses that a lot of Hollywood people do, it couldn't have lasted more than two seconds, but to Chloe it seemed like forever. It wasn't anything like the hot, intense kiss she'd given him a few weeks ago, but this one was warm, sweet... and utterly addicting. Even more so than hot fudge. She felt rather dazed when he pulled back.

_That should be illegal_, she thought as she sank gratefully into her car.

* * *

Philip watched Chloe drive off before getting into his own car. He hadn't expected to feel anything with that brief kiss, it was something that had seemed completely natural to him, but he _had_ felt something. It had been surprisingly soft and... familiar.

_Strange..._ he thought, but let it go. He had an appointment to get to...

* * *

Chloe didn't bother to check the second text message, figuring it would just be more of the same. Besides, she didn't want anything to bring down her mood at the moment. She'd had a perfectly enjoyable lunch with Philip, he was going to take her out again in a few days, and he'd even kissed her! Sure, she'd kissed him before, but it wasn't the same thing.

She was in such a state of dazed happiness that when she pulled into the car park of her office building, she had to slam on her brakes as someone tore around the corner, tires squealing. Luckily, that person also slammed on their brakes and the two cars avoided hitting each other by mere inches.

Chloe leaned her head out the open window and yelled, "What the hell, you idiot?" She had a momentary surge of fear when the car door opened, but it turned out to be Danny. She blinked. "Danny? What the hell are you doing out here?" She noticed then that his face was as white as a sheet. "Danny? What's going on?"

"Chloe, where have you been?" he asked, clearly panicked. He seemed slightly out of breath, and his rapid talking wasn't helping matters in that area. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon, it said you were outside the service area, and after I gave her the news, she got so angry--"

"Slow down," she said. "What's the problem? Did Ginger find out that I was actually eating lunch on my lunch break?"

Danny completely missed the joke. He was dead serious. "Chloe, your friend is in trouble!"

Her heart skipped a beat. Was it Tessa? "What?"

"Ginger's hired someone to kill Teri!"

To be continued...


	8. The Face of Evil

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Eight

Ginger slapped a copy of _The Weekly World News _on the table in front of Philip and his agent, Allen, with a thump. An enormous picture across the cover showed Philip and Miss C locked in a passionate embrace in the middle of a dance floor. The headline screamed, "Philip Carter Grayson and Mystery Woman!" Below that, a sub-heading read, "Who is she? Are they an item? Find out more inside!"

The redhead scowled, her delicate features completely transformed by what was clearly rage. "It's great publicity," she said. "But it's not _my _publicity."

He shrugged. "That's old news by now." _In fact, why is she so upset by something that happened a couple of weeks ago?_ he thought.

"Well, it's got the whole country talking!" she said, seeming to become more irate at his lack of concern. "Who is she?"

Philip blinked. _She sounds like a possessive girlfriend. Creepy..._ Again, he shrugged. "I don't know. I met her that night."

"I suppose you don't _mind_ being man-handled by a complete stranger!"

He glanced again at the picture. It didn't look like he was being 'man-handled' at all... In fact, Philip looked like he was enjoying himself quite a bit. Looking back on the event, he really had... But when he glanced up at the fuming woman in front of him, he knew instantly he should say nothing of the kind.

Ginger took a deep breath, calming herself sufficiently to continue at a more moderate tone of voice. "All right... It's bad, but it's not irreparable. We can send out a press release for rumor control, pull it off as some kind of obsessed fan, they might wonder why we haven't sent out a release before now, but we can say it was a minor event that we didn't expect to be blown out of proportion--"

Philip looked at Allen nodding his head and bristled a bit. "Hey!" he said. Ginger looked absolutely stunned at his interruption and he took the opportunity to continue. "Until seven-thirty tonight, my personal life is none of your business!"

Her eyes widened, but not in surprise... More like fury. Probably at his... defiance? _Okay, scary._

"As your publicist, it is every _bit_ my business!" she said, her voice climbing again.

He watched in shock as Ginger flew into a tirade about image and the proper way to cultivate it and about all her hard work and how it was all going to waste. _This _was the woman who had talked to him at the after-party a few weeks ago? She had been catty, sure, but she hadn't been such a _bitch_. And _she _was the one Allen wanted him set up with? _No, thanks!_

"Ms. Carlyle, I think you should calm down," said Philip. "Maybe have something to drink?"

At his attempt at placation, she took another deep breath. "Well... All right. I'll have my secretary bring you some coffee." She pushed the button on the intercom attached to her desk... but no one answered. She pushed it two more times to no avail, becoming increasingly more agitated.

Philip could see where this was going. "Look, why don't I get it for you?" he offered. "How do you take it?"

She tossed her head. "Oh, I couldn't possibly drink the swill that's made here."

_Even though you just offered it to us, _thought Philip, dryly.

"I have to have a Starbucks grande, double espresso shot, soy latte, half-caf, no whip, light on the foam --"

"--With sugar free chocolate syrup only on top, not mixed in," he finished for her, eyes gone wide.

Her mouth had fallen open slightly in surprise. "Yes... How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess... Allen, can I talk to you for a minute, privately?" he asked, quickly.

"Uh..." He glanced at Ginger.

It apparently took all of her self-control to utter the word, "Fine."

The two men left the room. Finding the secretary's desk indeed empty, they stayed in the abandoned ante-room to talk.

"Allen, I am _not _going out with her tonight!" Philip said, quietly but with no less urgency. "I don't want _anyone _to think I am dating _her_! That woman is a word that starts with 'b' and rhymes with-- Oh, Hell, the word is _bitch_!"

"Which is precisely _why_ you have to go out with her!"

"Huh?"

Allen adjusted his tie, nervously. "I have to deal with her, too, you know! Go out with her tonight and that'll be it. If you don't, I'll _never _hear the end of it!" He started visibly, as though just remembering something. "Is she listening?"

They both leaned over to peer through the partially closed door. Ginger had her back to them and was dialing her phone. After a few seconds, the theme from _Titanic_ began playing from one of the drawers in the secretary's desk. The two men leaned back quickly as Ginger glanced at the door, hearing the sound. They leaned over again as they heard her slam the phone down. She dialed another number, tapping her long red acrylic claws on the desk as she waited, then slammed the phone down with even more force. She dialed once more and hung up almost immediately. Philip was sure the phone was going to break, Ginger had quite an arm on her... She took a deep breath and tried another dial, this time apparently reaching someone, or perhaps she was leaving a message, since she never once paused for breath.

"PEER!" she hissed ominously through clenched teeth. "What the FUCK am I paying you for? Why don't I have a secretary when I'm supposed to have _two_? Where the HELL are you? If one of you isn't back in _five _minutes, I swear, you are BOTH out of a job!"

Allen looked back at Philip, pleadingly. "Just the one date, I promise."

He thought about refusing... But it occurred to him that this could be a useful bargaining chip. If he told Allen he was going out tomorrow night with some nobody, he'd get another lecture about image and probably be coerced into canceling. And _that _he did _not_ want to do. "If I do this date tonight, I get to go on a date I _really_ want on Friday."

He groaned. "Philip, you can't be seen with all these different women! It puts forth the wrong image!"

"Why not? Leonardo DiCaprio does it all the time! And people love him."

"Teenie-boppers love him," he corrected, sternly. "We're promoting you for a slightly older crowd. And look where Leonardo's image got him. _The Beach _and _Celebrity_, that's where."

"I think it might have been his attitude that did that. Moreover, I really don't care. Either I get my date tomorrow, or you don't get this date tonight, and that's my final answer!"

His agent bit his lips briefly, glanced toward the office where Ginger waited, then nodded. "Okay, deal."

"And you make _sure_ there are plenty of people there tonight! I _don't _want to be alone with her!"

"I don't blame you..."

* * *

In the meantime, when Philip had shown himself into the meeting with Ginger and Allen, Chloe had nearly run into Danny downstairs in the car park. All thoughts of returning to work had fled her mind as she zoomed out of the parking lot and onto the road in Danny's car.

"Danny, are you _sure _Ginger's hired someone to kill Teri?" she asked as he drove dangerously fast. "Are you sure she just didn't _say _she wanted to kill Teri? Because she does that several times in every week..."

"I'm positive, Chloe. I pushed the wrong button on the intercom and accidentally overheard her half of the telephone conversation with the guy."

"Well, what did she say?"

"She said 'Kill Teri!'"

"I gathered that... What else?"

"'I don't care what you do with the body' and other things like 'Just charge it on the card I gave you.' I think that's pretty specific!"

"Oh, God..." Danny was really agitated. And while her own heart was racing so fast she was certain she'd have a heart attack soon, she had to get him to calm down a little or he was going to get them killed. "Danny, you have to slow down!"

"Slow down? Are you crazy?"

"No, I just don't want to die!"

"And I don't want Teri to die!" He took a deep breath, somehow finding the ability to loosen his grip on the steering wheel just slightly. "Luckily, since he's pretending to be an ex-client of Ginger's, I had to fax the specs over to Teri's office. I know exactly where he's meeting her. The freeway will be packed, but I know how to get there using side streets."

"Good, now tell me, why in hell would Ginger want Teri to be killed? I mean, I know they're not best buddies or anything, but still, this seems a little extreme!"

He winced. "I... had to tell her some bad news."

That did not sound good. "What bad news?"

"I found out today that Ginger's not in the front running for the promotion anymore. In fact, she's even below that guy in the office's east wing who's been over budget every quarter for the past two years."

"So, why isn't she having _that _guy killed, too?"

Danny looked uncomfortable. "There's more... The movie theater ran out of soda."

She blinked. "What?"

He made a frustrated gesture. "There were soda issues and Teri deliberately needled Ginger... It's kind of a long story."

"You can tell it to me later, but I still don't see why..." She glanced at Danny who was looking more uncomfortable than ever. "More?"

He nodded, but it looked like he _especially_ didn't want to tell her this part. "I... accidentally called Ginger 'Teri.'"

"Danny! You _didn't_! When?"

"It's... kind of embarrassing..."

"DANNY! How _could _you call her that when you're doing _that_?"

"Well, it's not like I get much out of it when we do it, I'm just her toy. Yes, I know what you and Teri call me and don't worry, I know it's the truth," he said when he caught Chloe's startled look. "I was... imagining something more pleasant-- I really don't want to talk about--" He stopped as something suddenly occurred to him. "Oh, my God, _call_ her! We're sitting here like idiots and you've got a ton of cell phones on you! Call her! Warn her! Now!"

"I'm on it!" she said, already dialing one of the phones and starting to panic even more. What if Teri was dead somewhere already and she could have prevented it by thinking to call her? _Teri, don't die! Please pick up the phone!_

After a couple of rings, there was a loud crackle of static and Chloe dimly heard the phone pick up. "Hey, hon!" Teri's voice could barely be heard over the interference.

"Teri, thank God!" said Chloe, relieved. "Where are you?"

"...Hello, Chloe, are you still there?"

"Hello? HELLO?" Chloe began yelling into the phone. "Are you inside a building or something? Listen, if you are, get out of there!"

"What? Yeah, I'm in a building, elevator, actually, but I totally missed what you said after that." The static kept Teri's voice fading in and out. "I can't talk anyway, I'm meeting a client."

"No! NO, Teri, you have to get out of there! _Get out of there_! It's a set up!"

"What?"

"A set up! A _set up!_ IT'S A TRAP!"

"A what?"

The static suddenly cleared and Chloe screamed with everything she had, "GINGER'S HIRED SOMEONE TO KILL YOU!"

The line went dead. Chloe looked at the screen of the silver phone in horror, it was out of power.

Danny looked at her, frantic. "Did she hear you?"

"God, I hope so... Are we almost there?"

"Yes, it's just up the street."

"Okay, park in the loading zone, keep the car running, I'll run in and try to find her and pray to God I don't get killed in the process..."

As Danny pulled up to the white curb, Chloe was about to open her door when Teri came running out of the building.

"GET IN!" both of them yelled. Teri wasted no time and they sped off.

Teri was very out of breath as she laid sideways in the backseat. Chloe craned her head around to look at her, searching for any signs of blood.

"I'm okay," said Teri, gasping for air. "But you're right... The guy had something that looked a little too suspiciously like a gun. And he saw me. Just as I got back on the elevator, he came out of an office and started running toward me. I don't know if he waited for the elevator to come back up or not, but the stairs were on the other side of the building, so either way, we have a little time to--"

"We haven't lost him," Danny cut in, suddenly, eyes on the rear-view mirror. "We're being tailed." He indicated the glove compartment. "Chloe, there's a pen and paper in there, get his license plate!"

She went to do just that, but frowned when she looked at the frame around the plate. It's no good, it's a rental car."

"Well, get it anyway, we can at least try and trace who rented it!"

Chloe doubted that even if he had rented it himself, he wouldn't have used his real name, but she took down the plate number anyway and stuffed the paper in her purse. As she did, she noticed that the black phone was blinking. Automatically, she flipped it open and saw she had a missed call from the office. "Oh, shit..."

"What?" both Danny and Teri asked.

"I forgot about Ginger."

"Huh?"

"Danny, where's your phone?" she asked, trepidation building.

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled it out. She grabbed it and, as she suspected, his was turned off. She pressed the little red button and instantly, the device vibrated. One missed call, one message.

She didn't want to, but she checked it anyway. Ginger's voice came through the speaker and Chloe paled. "Danny... We're in trouble." She hung up the phone and stuck it in the drink holder. "If one of us doesn't get back to the office, we're both out of a job."

"Who cares?" he said, vehemently. "She can take her fucking job and she can shove it up her--"

"No, Danny!" said Chloe. "If we're fired, that means we can't look for evidence!"

He sobered at that. "Oh, yeah..."

She glanced behind them at the rental car, which was currently being held up by a semi which was trying to merge, then pointed at their approaching office building. "Look, just slow the car down so I don't break my neck and I'll jump out and go back."

"All right," he said. "I'll drive around and try to lose him. I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay." She looked back at Teri and reached over to squeeze her hand. "Be safe, all right?"

Her friend nodded. Chloe hurried out of the car and they drove off again, tires squealing. She ran into the building, having no idea whether or not their 'five minutes' was up. To Ginger, 'five minutes' usually meant 'this second.'

As she headed for the elevator, she ran directly into Philip, who was just stepping off. His smile was completely disarming as he steadied her by the shoulders. Oh, he looked so _good_... And relieved?

"We seem to be making a habit of this," he said. She forgot she was supposed to be moving when he hugged her tightly. "Your boss is a complete and utter raging tyrannical bitch," he murmured next to her ear. "And I can't wait for tomorrow."

She stared after him as he began heading for the front doors, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Hey, how did you...?"

He grinned. "There's only one person I know of who drinks a grande, double espresso shot, soy latte, half-caf, no whip, light on the foam, with sugar free chocolate syrup only on top, not mixed in. You better get up there, by the way," he said, as the doorman opened the door for him. "She is _really _pissed."

For the rest of the day, Chloe pretended to work while searching for evidence around the office. Ginger gave her a ton of work to do, none of which she got accomplished, but Chloe had heard the lecture about her incompetence so many times, it was just background noise. She found, however, that she was really understandably nervous around Ginger now, and although she knew her boss wasn't stupid enough to start having people killed right and left, she jumped each time she thought Ginger was on to her.

It was really difficult when Ginger asked what she was doing going through her paperwork to answer "Just trying to wade through this crap fiesta you call an organized desk," rather than the "Nothing" that almost came out. If she acted out of the usual, Chloe knew she was toast. Ginger was expecting Chloe to be harmlessly flip as long as she wasn't in front of clients. She couldn't start being yes, ma'am, no, ma'am all of a sudden. But there was nothing more difficult than to pretend everything was normal when she was worried to death over the life of her best friend.

It was at the end of the day and Ginger, Princess, and Staci had all gone home early when Danny trudged back into the office, alone.

"Where's Teri?" she asked immediately. At his panicked look, she added, "Don't worry, they're gone."

He breathed a slight sigh. "A little while after we left you, I figured it would be better if I left her someplace safe and drove around to throw him off."

"So, where did you leave her?"

"I drove into Woods University and dropped her off amidst the dorms. He was a few streets back, I know he didn't see her get out of the car, because he continued to tail me for several hours."

"What did you do to lose him?"

He actually half-smiled. "I drove down a speed trap at which point I slowed down, since I knew he wouldn't. When the cops got after him, I knew he would have at least a fifteen minute delay if he stopped, and a few hours delay if he tried to outrun them. And even if he did stop, I knew he'd consider it too risky to double back and tail me again."

Chloe smiled, hugging him tightly. "Danny, you're a genius!" He blushed. "All right, then did you go get her?"

He shook his head. "Way too dangerous. He'll be watching for that. Teri knew that, too. She said she'd call when she got to a safe place." He held up his cell phone. "I'll have this on constantly until she does. Did you get anything from this end?"

She shook her head, regretfully. "Not a thing."

"Shit!" he exclaimed, banging his fist on the desk. "That means we have to get Ginger to talk." He glanced at the open appointment calendar on the desk with all of the itinerary for the month. "We know she's going to be at the Canary Club tonight to be seen with that movie star," he said, slowly. "I'm supposed to go with her. You know, arm candy. I can probably get her to talk and say _something_, but it's better if there's more than one witness. Can you be there, incognito?"

For a moment, Chloe wondered how she could _ever _get into an exclusive club, much less be there incognito, before sudden inspiration hit.

"I need to make a phone call... But I'll be there."

* * *

"Hi, I'm here for Denise," said Chloe a short car ride later. "I know the salon's closed, but she should be expecting me..."

The man with short, frosted hair smiled at her. "Honey, you're looking at her."

She blinked. The smile, the eyes, sure enough... "Denise?"

"It's really simple, sugar. Dennis like this, Denise otherwise."

"Got it."

"Now, what's going on?" he asked. "You sounded so upset on the phone..." He glanced at his watch. "Actually, tell me while I work. I'm assuming you don't have much time."

"I'm sorry to ask this of you," she said, coming into the salon and heading for the chair she'd sat in before. "But you did such a good job before and--" She stopped as she stared at one of the walls which boasted a blown-up picture of her and Philip on the cover of _The Weekly World News_. "You had it framed?"

"Of course," he said, draping her in a cloth. "I always frame my best work. Now, tell me what's got you all up in arms."

She gave Dennis the nutshell version.

He paused, box of hot rollers in hand. "Where did you say you needed to be at?" he asked.

"The Canary Club."

An amused smile lit his face and he put the hot rollers away, instead bringing out lots and lots of bobby pins. "I know exactly what to do."

To be continued...


	9. The Second Ball

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Nine

Chloe never thought, in her entire life, that one day she'd be dressed in a tiny sparkly red dress, in a razor-cropped platinum blond wig, with strappy rhinestone heels on her feet, stuck inside a huge gilded birdcage for all to see, playing a go-go dancer.

_Yes, mom,_ she thought. _This is what I went to college for._

As she moved to the loud music, she thought back to how she got there...

* * *

"Incognito, right?" said Dennis. "If they didn't recognize you last time, they won't recognize you tonight. Leave it to me."

He fitted her with a really good wig that applied with spirit gum near the front, so if she moved her head, it would look real. Underneath, her actual hair was twisted up into many pin curls set with bobby pins. With the wig over them, it felt a little like having a pineapple for a scalp.

Dennis brought out a tiny red dress spangled with gold glitter, which she again didn't think was going to fit, but it made her look extremely curvy. Of course, the pushup bra and body shaper helped. She still had no idea where he got these clothes that seemed to fit her perfectly; they couldn't be his, the two of them were no where near the same size.

After he did her makeup and painted her lips a bright scarlet, he brought out the same shoes as she hooked fishnet thigh-high stockings to a garter belt.

"Those again?" she asked. "My feet haven't recovered from last time."

"Beauty hurts," he said. "And it's either those, or these." He held up a pair of six inch stiletto boots.

She grabbed the heels. "I'll take these."

"Good choice. Now," he said as she sat down to put them on, "when you get there, go to the _back_ door. They might let you in on sight, but if not, just ask for Leon. He'll show you where to go and you take it from there."

Chloe stood up. "Got it."

"Let's see how you look!"

They both went to the full length mirror at the end of the salon. She stared at herself for a long moment.

"I feel like a bad go-go dancer."

"How you feel is irrelevant. How do you think you _look_?"

"I look like a prostitute who _moonlights_ as a bad go-go dancer!"

Dennis nodded, sagely. "My work here is done." He patted her shoulders. "Trust me, sugar, you look gorgeous. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Well, no." A thought occurred to her. "Oh! How much do I owe you?"

Dennis looked scandalized. "Nothing, sweetheart. You're my project." He winked at her. "I have my reasons."

Before Chloe could answer to that, a cab pulled up in front of the double glass doors. "Now, as I send you on your way, remember what I said about hiding in plain sight."

"Shine so bright you blind her."

"Right." He handed her into the cab and leaned down to the driver's window. "On me, okay, Kevin?"

The driver winked at Dennis. "You got it."

Dennis grinned at Chloe. "Hope you find what you're looking for."

And the cab drove off.

The bouncer at the back door of the Canary Club chided her for being late, which she didn't understand. Leon turned out to be a _huge _man with three days worth of stubble on his face who brusquely led her out to the main floor of the club, which looked a little like a scene out of _The Birdcage_. It was then she saw a bunch of other girls, dressed exactly like Chloe was except for the shoes, all inside gilded cages at the end of long tables. She finally understood the name of the club... It was a go-go bar.

"We lock all the dancers inside for your safety. If you need to get out, give the doorman the signal," he said, demonstrating a whirling motion with his index finger. "In the event of a fire, the doors all open automatically. One of the bouncers will come get you after an hour for your break."

"What do I do, then?" she asked.

"I don't care!" he said, annoyed. "Smoke in the alley, take a piss in the john, dance with the clientele, it's _your_ break, you do what you want, just be back in half an hour."

He opened the door of one of the cages and, really left with no other choice, she hoisted herself inside. Absently, she wondered what became of the girl who was _supposed_ to be dancing in the cage that night.

The cages at the head of the tables only had one door which opened out onto the main dance floor. A low wall separated the cages from the tables they headed, so that if someone got too rowdy with a dancer, she could easily leave, whereas, the person at the table would have to walk all the way around the rest of the tables to get to the floor and the bouncers would get to him before he could ever reach the girl. Chloe looked up and saw a sprinkler inside the cage above her head.

_Oh, God,_ she thought. _I hope that's for safety reasons and not part of the show..._

She looked down at the as of yet empty table she would be dancing for and her eyes widened. How had Dennis known she'd end up at this table?

The little card at the center read, 'Reserved for Grayson, party of twelve.'

* * *

That was about forty-five minutes ago. And right at her feet sat Ginger. Next to her was Philip and across from her was Danny, who was doing his best to get some kind of information from Ginger. All of his attempts to get her attention, however, were failing miserably so far. She was far too busy being social with everyone at the table to pay the slightest bit of heed to her assistant/toy.

What was actually pretty amusing was the fact that Danny kept craning his neck and looking around the club, apparently searching for Chloe, and he didn't realize she was dancing right in front of him!

Her own attention was divided by turns as she tried to listen to Ginger while she was being distracted by Philip. He kept staring at her periodically and it was a powerful feeling indeed to repeatedly draw his gaze away from the redhead who was constantly demanding he pay attention to her.

"Ginger," Danny said, on his fifth attempt since they arrived. "There was something I wanted to ask you about--"

"_Peer_," she hissed, snapping her head at him finally, eyes flashing. "I am not here to talk to _you_, so _shut up_!"

Chloe's eyes narrowed. Ginger was always such a bitch to people she thought didn't matter. To everyone else, she was always perfectly composed, the perfect socialite... Well, this was her chance to tell her off. Confident in her disguise and taking a leaf from Dennis' book, she reached down and plucked the cigarette Ginger had just lit from her fingers.

"Can I borrow this?" she asked, sweetly, instantly taking a long drag without waiting for her permission. "Thanks." She even blew the smoke in her boss' face as a finishing touch.

The fury mounting in Ginger's expression was priceless. She was angrier than a wet cat, but she couldn't do anything without losing face in front of everyone. Chloe smiled at her wickedly as _Harder to Breathe _came over the sound system.

_I LOVE this fucking song!_

In time to the music, she dropped the cigarette on the floor of the cage and ground it out with the toe of her shoe, saucily tossing her hips as she did so. Her gaze shifted to Philip almost unconsciously, and suddenly the show she was putting on was only for him.

Her dancing suddenly felt more provocative than before and any self-consciousness she might have felt melted away. She didn't feel overweight, instead she was curvy. Soft, instead of round. She drew her hands through her hair and tossed her head, letting herself go. As she danced, she let her hands travel over her body, not explicitly, but suggestively, her fingers just missing the places she silently begged him to touch.

_Like this,_ she told him with her eyes. _Like this. I want it like this._

His gaze never left her the entire time. And to her continued malicious delight, neither did Ginger's.

When the song ended, Chloe saw the bouncer headed for her cage and figured her hour must be up. She looked again at Philip and crooked her index finger at him. Instantly, he made to rise, but Ginger's red-taloned hand came down on his wrist like a shackle.

Chloe clucked her tongue at the other woman. "It's not nice to commandeer _all_ of the guest-of-honor's time, _honey_," she said.

Ginger gasped, the fury in her gaze becoming out and out rage. "You-- You--" she sputtered. There was recognition in her eyes now, but not the kind that Chloe feared. "_Who_ are you?" she demanded finally.

"I go by Miss C," she said. "But I'm sure you have other names for me."

"One of them starts with a 'c,'" Ginger snarled.

Chloe pretended to be offended and mockingly gasped, finding it remarkable just how quickly she could shift into 'Miss C Mode.' "Manners, my dear. Wouldn't want to show an ugly face to all these lovely people, now would you?" She looked at Philip and gave him a sly half-smile. "Mr. Grayson... If you enjoy the company, by all means, stay. If not, I'll see you on the other side." The bouncer unlocked her door and she walked out of the cage. As she left, she tossed a look over her shoulder and saw Philip standing as if in a trance to walk after her.

Two arms suddenly grabbed her around the waist. In the next moment, she was looking up at some huge, vaguely familiar guy, effectively trapped against his chest by each of his large hands.

"Miss C," he said, smiling. "We meet again."

It took her a second before she remembered where she'd met him before. "H-Hector, right?"

He seemed particularly pleased that she recalled. "I hadn't expected to run into you here. I don't suppose you need another ride?" His tone suggested that he had a different sort of ride in mind than the one he gave her last time.

"Mind if I cut in?"

Chloe turned her head to see Philip standing next to them and relief surged through her, though she wasn't certain why. There was just something about Hector that unnerved her, but she couldn't exactly put her finger on it.

Hector's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I _do_ mind," he said.

Philip shrugged. "Too bad," he said, echoing Chloe's own words from the after-party. And with that, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him.

Still in 'Miss C Mode' as they walked to the other side of the floor, Chloe looked over her shoulder and blew Hector a kiss. "Maybe next time, handsome. Buh-bye."

As a slower song started up, she wrapped her arms around Philip's neck and began moving with him. "Thanks for the rescue," she said.

"I could say the same. Do you work here?"

She laughed. "No. I'm just doing this for... fun." Reminded, she glanced at the table, but all Ginger was doing was watching them like a hawk and apparently tossing back a couple of shooters. Danny had gotten up and was standing a little ways away, scanning the crowd and still looking for her. She would have to find a way to talk to him soon... He wasn't getting anything out of Ginger, she was too visible here. Chloe didn't want to be stuck in that cage all night, and as she looked up at Philip, she figured he'd rather be anywhere but at that club, too.

"Are you enjoying your date?" she asked.

His expression crumpled. "No. I'm miserable. This is quite possibly the worst date I've ever been on, and that's counting the one where a dog barfed on me and then crapped on my shoes."

"That's what I thought." She pressed herself flush against him and leaned up to whisper in his ear, "Then, are you ready to cut the small talk?"

His fingers tightened on her hip. "Yes..."

"Make your polite good-byes and I'll meet you at the back door. I have to ditch my boss." _Heh, _she thought. _This'll make the second time._

"I thought you didn't work here."

"I don't." She swiveled her hips against his as a promise for more and nibbled lightly on his earlobe. "Five minutes. Don't be late."

As he hurried off the dance floor, Chloe went around the other way and got as close to Danny as she dared without alerting Ginger who was currently watching Philip return to the table.

"Psssst!"

Danny's head swiveled around and she beckoned him over. His expression was confused, but he did as she bid.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Did you get anything out of Ginger?"

His eyes bugged. "CHLOE?"

"Shhh!"

"_You're _Miss C?" he asked, incredulously, but at a slightly quieter tone. "Do you know how _pissed _Ginger is at you? You _know _she wants Philip Grayson like no other! She absolutely _hates _you!"

Chloe grinned. "Yeah. It's great, isn't it? Did you get anything out of Ginger?"

"No," he said. "I've been trying all night, but..."

"I know, I've been watching," she said. "I don't think you'll get anything from her here; she's trying too hard to be the center of attention. We'll have to think of something else."

"Well..." said Danny, his gaze slipping to the floor. "We haven't exhausted _all_ of our resources, yet... See, Ginger gets rather chatty after-- Well, _after_..."

For a moment, Chloe didn't understand what he meant, but when he continued to refuse to meet her gaze, her eyes widened. She clapped him on the shoulder. "Godspeed, Danny. Take one for the team."

"I'll call you at midnight. We should be... _done_ by then."

She nodded. "Call me on my home phone," she said, taking his pen from his front pocket and writing the number on his hand. "My cell phones can be traced through the company." She stuck the pen back in his pocket and began heading for the door. "Good luck."

Philip was waiting for her in the back alley with his car running. He was standing at the passenger side, holding the door open for her. She smiled and went to him, grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, dragged him against her, and locked their mouths together, the cool surface of the car at her back, his warm body blanketing her front. It took no time at all for him to respond, kissing her back like a man starved.

_Fuck, he's so _good _at this! _she thought. _If he doesn't get us somewhere private really soon, we're going to ruin the interior of his car and this time I'm way beyond caring..._

It was her who broke the kiss, sliding sideways into the car's interior. After a moment's recovery, Philip ran around to the driver's side and they took off.

She took great delight in knowing he was watching her when he was supposed to be watching the road as she crossed her legs first one way, then the other. Since the car he drove was a stick shift, he was denied the pleasure of touching her in any way, and since there weren't very many cars on the road, opportunities where the car was stopped for traffic lights were also few.

She glanced at the speedometer and sighed. "Do you always drive like a grandmother?" she asked.

"What?"

"You're going ten miles under the speed limit. We're not going to a funeral."

"I just don't want to get pulled over," he said.

"If you stay off the main road, you won't be." She gave him a slow smile. "But maybe I can help you speed things up..." Leaning over the center console, she ran her hand from his knee all the way up the inside of his thigh, lightly raking her nails as she did so...

The car swerved. And once he'd righted it, the gas pedal hit the floor.

* * *

Since it was still fairly early in the evening, a couple of other people got on the elevator in Philip's hotel with them. It was particularly frustrating to stand there next to each other, taking the elevator all the way to the penthouse on the thirtieth floor, waiting for the other riders to get off, when all she could think about was... getting _off_.

When the first guy got off on the ninth floor, Philip reached over and ran his fingers lightly along the inside of her wrist. She took a quick intake of breath as a shiver swept her from head to toe. When the second guy left them on the fifteenth floor, they wasted no more time.

Philip grabbed her, backing her up against the wall of the elevator as his lips hungrily found hers. Without missing a beat, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up around her thighs. She moaned against his mouth when she felt the silk of her tiny underwear brush against the rigid front of his jeans. She dug her fingers into his dark hair, kissing him ferociously. His hands were everywhere and nothing had ever felt so delicious. Thoughts of modesty all were gone; they had never even entered her brain. All she knew was she wanted Philip and she wanted him _now._

"We can't," he said, tearing his mouth away from hers briefly. "Not here. We're giving the security guys a show."

"We should charge admission," she said, continuing to kiss him.

At last, they reached the top floor without managing to lose any clothing, but Philip refused to put Chloe down. He carried her down the hall, fumbled with the room card, and got them inside. The journey to the bedroom would have taken too long. He leaned her up against the door and the activities continued with renewed vigor. Blindly, she worked to open his shirt, exposing his chest to her touch. She wanted to feel every expanse of skin with her hands, her lips, her entire body...

He was just reaching around to unzip her dress when he froze.

"Maybe we shouldn't," he said, unexpectedly.

His words cut through her lust-induced haze. "What?" she asked, sliding down his body to put her feet back on the floor.

"I'm dating someone... Well, tomorrow I'm dating someone. I mean... I _will_ be dating someone on Friday..."

"Yeah, and it's Thursday," she said, reaching up to bring his face back down to hers. She felt him relaxing back into it, but suddenly he pulled away.

"No, I think I really like this person," he said.

Chloe realized then, he was talking about _her! _She smiled at him. "I don't think she'll mind," she said, kissing him again.

It took just a little longer, but Philip pulled away for a third time. "I think she might," he said.

She was shocked. There she was, his for the taking, and, if the state of his pants was any indication, he clearly wanted to fuck her unconscious... and he wasn't going to. Because of _her_. But he didn't know that. What was more, he honestly looked really apologetic for taking her this far and then backing off.

"Is it really important to you that you don't hurt her?" she asked. She realized after she said it, that she didn't know how she wanted him to answer. Part of her, the part that was incredibly sexually frustrated at the moment, wanted him to say no. But the rest of her desperately wanted him to say yes.

_Okay, if he says no, screw him long and hard into the night, then politely say goodbye on your date since you didn't think it would last anyway. If he says yes, politely say goodbye tonight, hug him to pieces on your date, and hope for the best._

He paused. "Yes, I think it is," he said, sounding as though it had just occurred to him.

_Believe me, _she thought. _It's a surprise to me, too. Even if you don't know it._

She nodded. "Mr. Grayson... Philip... You're an incredibly admirable man," she said, smiling. She extended her hand for a firm handshake. "I hope you consider her worth it. Good night."

And with that, she turned and left the hotel room. As she waited for the elevator, she expected to feel disappointed, at least in some respect, but instead the feeling that filled her was nothing short of elation.

_He likes me..._

The concierge gave her an odd look when she asked him to call a cab for her. She'd forgotten for a moment that she looked pretty much like a prostitute. Luckily, she had a wad of cash stashed in her bra and a twenty convinced him to dial the number.

She was home well before midnight and after she'd changed out of her go-go dress and into her pajamas, she sat in her armchair by the phone, too worried about Teri to sleep. She figured she'd wait for Danny's call, which came at 12:17am.

She picked it up right away. "Hello?"

"Nothing," came Danny's groggy voice.

"What?" she exclaimed. "I thought you said she was chatty _after_!"

"Apparently, that's just for normal screwing. This was angry, violent fucking, Chloe. There _was _no _after_!" He groaned. "I'm sore in places that should _not _be sore... I feel used, violated, cheap, and... dirty. Ginger has this way of just _looking_ at a man and making him feel raped."

"Okay, that's _way_ more about Ginger than I ever needed to know," she said, but was secretly very glad she was not an attractive young man, like Danny.

"Well, I did manage to get one thing out of her," he said.

"What?"

"Like I said before, she was pissed, and all she said was, 'I'm surrounded by idiots who can't even do the job they're paid to do.'"

Chloe winced. That was a particularly rough blow on Danny, considering what he and Ginger did together. _Okay, she doesn't exactly pay him to sleep with her, but she does pay him to do whatever she says... It kind of adds up to the same thing. _"What does that tell us?"

"It tells us that she's not happy with the job someone did. Which probably means that the guy, whoever he is, did not succeed in killing Teri."

She sighed. It was a vague hope, but it was better than nothing. "What are you going to do now?"

"Now? I'm going to take a long, scalding shower. Then I'm going to try and think of something else."

"Nice plan. Goodnight, Danny."

"There's nothing _good_ about it."

Chloe didn't think she'd be able to sleep that night, but it seemed like she'd just drifted off when the phone rang again at 3:36am. She picked it up on the second ring, heart pounding. Was she going to feel panic every time the phone rang until she knew Teri was okay? "Hello?"

"It's me."

_Teri!_ Her heart leapt."Where are you?"

"I'm safe. I'm surrounded by idiots, but I'm safe. It's too risky for me to call you again, just in case she pays the guy to continue the job, but I need you to do me a favor."

"Sure."

"You know my P.O. Box?"

"Yeah."

"You've got the keys to my apartment. The keys to my office are there." Teri gave her a list of things to send her, including her laptop. "Obviously, don't mail it from our building. And mail it from a different post office."

"No problem." She hesitated slightly. "Hon... You're going to be okay, right?"

"Of course, I am. As long as stupid isn't catching... I should go. I'll call you as soon as I can. Bye, sweetheart."

"Bye..."

Chloe hung up the phone. She wasn't sure what she should be more worried about... Teri, what might happen if Ginger ever found out who Miss C really was, or her date with Philip that night.

To be continued...


	10. The Date

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Ten

That day at work was the most excruciating Chloe had ever endured in her entire career at Premiere Advertising. And when she worked for Ginger, Princess, and Staci on a daily basis, that was saying something. While her work load was no more insane than it usually was, she sat on pins and needles all day, worrying about Teri, and waiting for Philip to call.

_Okay, don't get all worked up,_ she thought. _Maybe he'll decide against it and not call. Or he could call to cancel. After all, you made him miss out on a lay last night... _She paused. _No. He gave up that lay and he did it for you. _Her heart pounded. _That means he's _going_ to call! I _have _to get worked up! My inner fan-girl demands it!_

She dived for the phone each time it rang. Even Ginger was surprised at her unprecedented show of enthusiasm for taking her calls. Not enough to praise her in any way, or let Chloe choose her _own_ ringtone, but still...

At around two o'clock, _Hollaback Girl_ rang from the silver phone beside the computer keyboard. Chloe still couldn't stand the song, and yet, all day she'd been hoping to hear it. Later, she would probably look back on this entire afternoon and laugh at her silly behavior. Now, though, she answered the call barely two seconds into the ringtone.

"Chloe Ashton," she said, breathlessly.

"_Chloe_! That's it... I've been trying to remember all day."

Her heart rate doubled, the organ leaping joyfully into her throat at the sound of Philip's voice. She glanced at Ginger's partially open office door and cupped her hand around the phone's receiver. "Just a second," she said, softly.

She muted the phone and bolted from the desk, saying "Bathroom break!" as she sped past Ginger's office without waiting for a response. She opened the door of a nearby utility closet, the closest empty room, and locked herself inside. Sitting down on a stepladder, she unmuted the phone.

"Philip?"

"I'm here."

She smiled broadly, unable to help herself. "It's so good to hear from you," she said, then promptly sneezed. The dust in the closet was getting to her sinuses a bit.

"Gazuntheit. You're not sick, are you?"

"No!" she said, adamantly, then toned it down a little. "No, I'm not sick. It's just... I'm kind of in a closet."

"In a closet? Should I take pictures?"

"...Huh?"

"You said... Never mind. Why are you in a closet?"

"If Ginger finds out I'm talking to you, she's going to want to know why. If I tell her you're taking me out... You _are_ still taking me out?"

"Of course."

"If I say that, I'm toast. I can't wait by the way," she said, smiling. "And if I lie and say you're calling for her, then _you're_ toast, because then you'll have to talk to her."

"I'll need to talk to her _sometime_," he said. "I have to tell her my perfectly concocted excuse for not wanting to see her, socially, anymore."

"Which is?"

"That I don't think it's wise to date someone who works for me." He sounded pretty proud of himself.

Chloe nodded. "That could work. Ginger will be torn between wanting you like no other and her pride as an advertising agent. But she'll undoubtedly point out that she won't be working for you forever. The contract for promoting this film is up in a few weeks."

"I'm not worried. I plan to be otherwise occupied by then." Before Chloe could ponder too deeply the implications in that statement, he went on. "Now, about our date tonight..."

"Yes!" she said, excitedly. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he said, smugly. "Which is why you have to tell me where you live."

"A clever ploy." She gave him the address to her little apartment. "Don't blink as you go by, otherwise you might miss it."

"Very funny."

"How should I dress, since I have no idea where we're going?"

He pondered for a moment. "Dress up."

She grinned. Since he'd only ever seen her in the sweats and t-shirts she wore to work, he probably thought even if they were going someplace casual, he should tell her to dress up. "I don't always dress down," she said. "Does that alter the dress code at all?"

"No," he said. "Dress up. And it hasn't bothered me when you've dressed down. You look cute in sweats."

"You are lying through your teeth, but it's very sweet of you."

He laughed. "What time do you get off work?"

"Five. I will absolutely leave at five, no matter _what_ Ginger wants me to do."

"All right. How about I pick you up at seven?"

"Great."

"I'll see you then, Candy."

"Chloe."

"Right; Chloe."

"I can't wait." She hung up the phone and exited the closet. As she headed back to her desk, she knew the day was going to drag like no other. Five o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

She got home around six, despite what she had said to Philip. Ginger would not listen to Chloe's repeated statement that she was no longer obligated to be at work past five. Even so, she didn't get to leave until after five-thirty. But an hour was plenty of time in which to get ready for Philip. Or, at least, that was what she thought.

The entire contents of her closet lay strewn around her room by the time she'd figured out what to wear. Since her weight had been fluctuating so much in the past couple of months, her clothes were many different sizes. All of her especially sexy clothes were now too small for her, and most of the other dresses in the closet were either too big or frumpy, or both. At last, she pulled out a little black dress with pink and purple flowers and white pin-dots from the pile. It wrapped around her, cinching in her waist, and dipping low at the top, and high at the bottom, revealing lots of cleavage and leg. It was a little small, but control top pantyhose took care of that problem. And it was the only thing she considered to be remotely appropriate for tonight.

She washed her hair with cold water so it would be shiny, a trick she'd learned from Tessa. But because of the cold water, blow drying took forever and she knew she wouldn't have enough time to flat iron it.

The job Chloe did on her make-up was, admittedly, not the best. Since she hardly ever bothered with it, it felt like she was wearing about a pound and a half of the stuff on her face. In fact, she might have been... She was never sure if she put enough on. _How does Dennis make it feel so weightless?_ As she looked at herself in the mirror, she sighed and picked up a washcloth, beginning to scrub it off.

_Philip wants to see me tonight, not Miss C. I can just be myself. Be real. He likes that._

In the end, all she went with was a little mascara so her eyelashes were actually visible and a great lipstick that Teri had bought for her a while back. She looked at the finished product and nodded. All right, so it was no where near the masterpiece Dennis turned out, but she looked like Chloe and she looked pretty darn good. She just hoped Philip would think so, too.

She was just slipping on her shoes when the doorbell rang. Her heart thudded loudly and she struggled to calm down as she picked up her purse and went to the door. _Okay, so Philip Carter Grayson is taking you to dinner... It's nothing to have a heart attack over. Just calm down. The last thing you want is to throw up all over him. _Mortified by just the thought of that happening, she almost tripped on the rug in front of the door, but luckily steadied herself and, calmly, she turned the knob.

Her mouth watered at the sight of him in his black jeans, collared shirt, and jacket, and her heart started pounding all over again. Now, here was something she had _not_ thought of. Her body was starting to remember what had almost happened the night before and suddenly the urge to jump on him and start going at it like wild sweaty monkeys was nearly overwhelming.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression becoming somewhat concerned. _Oh, no, _she thought. _I think he just said something and I completely missed it!_

"I-I'm sorry," she said. "You kind of... startled me. You look..." _Delicious._ "...wonderful."

"Thank you," he said, smiling. "I was actually just saying the same thing."

"Oh... Well, since I missed it, would you mind saying it again?"

"Not at all, it bears repeating." He extended a large pink Gerber daisy decorated with a red ribbon to her. "You look beautiful."

She blushed, grinning goofily. "Thank you..."

"So, this is your apartment?" he asked, trying to see inside.

Immediately, she came outside and closed the door. "It's a mess, you don't want to see it, trust me." Chloe hadn't ever had a chance to clean up all of her wedding plans and samples since the whole fiasco. She didn't want Philip to see those, as well as the rest of the mess scattered about.

"All right. Shall we go?" He gestured to his car at the curb. "I trust there isn't any coffee on your shoes this time?" he teased with a grin.

"There wasn't any last--" She nearly swallowed her tongue. He was talking about yesterday morning, not last night! _Duh, Chloe!_ "Laaaaasting stain remover," she said, covering badly. "I had to throw those shoes away."

"So, I really do owe you new shoes," he said.

As they walked down the steps to his car, his hand found its way to the small of her back. His touch was light, but her mouth went dry just the same. "L-Like I said, that's not necessary," she stuttered slightly. "Those shoes were about three years old, it was time to throw them out anyway, so really, you kind of did me a favor. I can get a new pair at Payless for about five bucks."

"Let me go with you," he said as he opened the car door for her.

"Why?"

"Because it's been ages since I've seen the inside of a Payless." He grinned. "Why do you think? So I can buy the shoes for you."

"I may not be extremely wealthy, but I assure you, I can afford five dollar shoes."

"That's not what I was trying to imply..." he said, apologetically.

"Philip... I was kidding." She smiled. "Now can we go? I really would like to find out where we're eating tonight."

He laughed slightly. "You got it." He went around to the other side of the car and they drove off.

As he drove, Chloe was aware of Philip glancing at her, probably wondering why she was so fidgety. She was tapping her feet on the floor of the car, clasping and unclasping her hands, folding and unfolding her arms. She just couldn't seem to get comfortable, and no wonder... Certain parts of her body were demanding attention that they simply were not getting. Her face felt hot, it was probably turning red, and she just had to hope that Philip wouldn't notice. How would she explain herself?

_You see, Philip, just last night were going to screw like crazed weasels before you turned me down in favor of tonight's date, which was really sweet and all, but its left me in a state of considerable frustration. I'm sure you can empathize. What's say we skip dinner and head directly for the backseat, huh? _No, she didn't think that'd go over too well. After what he'd said about wanting someone who was real, how could she tell him she'd been pretending to be someone else half the time he'd seen her?

"Are you all right?" he asked, finally.

"I'm fine," she said, albeit somewhat breathlessly.

"You don't look very comfortable."

"If you were on a date with yourself, would you be comfortable?" She paused, shaking her head. "That didn't come out right, I'm sorry. It's just... this is our 'first date,' you know?"

"No, lunch was our first date."

"No, that was our first _lunch_. This is our first date."

"I asked you out, and I paid for the food, that makes it a date."

"Fine. This is our first dinner." She grinned, knowing he couldn't argue with that. "It's just a little intimidating being out with you, Philip; first date, or no."

"Why? We've gone out before."

"Yeah... But this time, it's for real. You're not paying me back for anything, you _wanted_ to do this."

"I _wanted _to take you out to lunch, too."

"I know you did..." She sighed. "I'm saying this all wrong..."

Briefly, after switching gears, he took her hand in his and squeezed it slightly before returning to the gearshift. He glanced at her and smiled. "It's all right. Just tell me what you want to say."

She bit her lip. "You might think it's stupid."

"Yeah. And I might not. Tell me."

She paused. "People are going to look at us and wonder what you're doing with me. Or, what I'm doing with you. I don't... belong with you."

He pulled over, stopped the car, and turned to look at her, very seriously. "It's not stupid. You're really feeling that way, and that makes it important. But listen to me... I don't care what anyone may or may not think about us or our date. I don't even care what might be printed in the papers a few days from now. I care about what _you_ think. Do you want to be with me tonight?"

"Yes." _In more ways than three._

"Then you shouldn't care if people think you 'belong' with me or not. I am being perfectly honest when I tell you that there is no one I would rather be with right now, than you."

_You proved that last night._ "I feel the same way." She smiled. "Sorry about all that... I've been naturally insecure since I was a kid. Can we just forget what I said and have a good time tonight?"

"Of course," he said, smiling back. He gestured to the building he'd parked outside of. "We're here, anyway."

Chloe looked out the window to see the façade of an extremely exclusive, very expensive Moroccan restaurant and her eyes widened. At the same time, a great deal of tension lifted off of her shoulders. Not even Ginger could get a table at this place. The date was now guaranteed bitch-free.

"It looks wonderful."

* * *

Once they'd ordered their food, most of the dishes coming on Philip's recommendation, Chloe discovered another problem. It was exceedingly hard to come up with topics of discussion when all her mind wanted to think about was sex. What made matters worse was the fact that the table was one of those low-to-the-ground ones where they had to lounge on many large, luxurious pillows rather than chairs.

_Holy God... It's like we're practically on a bed. _She watched as he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. _HOW does he manage to make that look so damn sexy?_

That, combined with the dim lighting, the in-closed private area formed by several almost-sheer curtains, and the heady atmosphere from some exotic incense, and her imagination had far better things to mull over besides talking.

Philip, for his part, was not faring much better it seemed. He smiled at her, but he seemed a bit uncomfortable, and that discomfort was showing in his lack of conversation. So far, it had gone thusly:

"So... Nice place."

Philip nodded, glancing around a bit. "Uh-huh... It's very nice. Do you like it?"

Blink. "Yeeeeah... It's nice."

"Oh... Right."

Pause.

He ran his hand along a pillow. "I wonder if this is silk..."

She did likewise. "I'm not sure... It _feels_ like silk."

Pause.

"It smells good in here," said Chloe.

"Yep, it sure does. Must be a combination of the food and the incense."

"Must be."

Paaaaaaaaaause.

Finally, she turned on her side, propping her chin up in one hand as she leaned on the pillows. "You seem nervous."

"Well... I want to make a good impression. But there's something I need to tell you and I'm not quite sure how... I'm, uh... I mean, there's this, um... You see..."

"Would it help if you spoke in the third person again?"

He paused. "Philip has to tell you that..." He stopped. "No. No, it doesn't help at all." He looked more uncomfortable than ever.

Chloe thought about what she could do. _Come on, Chloe... He said you're the one who makes him feel comfortable. What do you think would ease tension on a first date?_ Suddenly, inspiration struck, and the idea would probably help both problems. She looked up at him and smiled. "I think what we need to do is start at the end of the date and work backwards."

"What?"

"Well, think about it. If we do the end of the date now, then we won't be all nervous when it actually comes up. We won't have to do the will-they-or-won't-they dance. That should ease up some of the tension." She straightened a bit and scooted closer to him. "You're an actor. Just follow my direction. It's the end of the night; you walk me up to my apartment door. My line is: Gosh, Philip, I sure had a great time tonight."

"Yeah, that's your line in a cheesy 50s movie..."

"Shut up, I'm the director here. And now, you say..." She made a prompting gesture.

He laughed slightly. "Yes, Chloe, I really had a great time, too. We should exchange phone numbers and do this again sometime."

"Sure, Philip, I would love that. Okay, now I glance at my door, fiddle with my keys, look at the ground, bite my lip, look at you hopefully..." She leaned in close to tell him in a stage-whisper, "This is your cue to lean in."

"Oh, right..."

He found the curve where her waist met her hip with his free hand and leaned in to gently kiss her. She opened for him almost instantly, giving him permission for a deeper kiss. After a few seconds of this, his hand traveled up her body to thread itself in her hair and he tilted her head to his. She wasn't sure when he had come closer to her, but suddenly she could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto hers. Her free hand came up to rest on his chest and she could feel the beat of his heart, racing fast.

When he pulled away after a long moment, her eyes remained closed for a bit as she basked in the afterglow of that kiss.

"Honey, that was a great rehearsal. I can't wait for the show," she said, without thinking. Instantly, she realized she had sounded remarkably like Miss C just then! _Well, duh, you _are _Miss C! _"I mean, um..."

"I think I know what you mean," he said. "And thanks..." He gave her a slow smile. "That _did_ clear up some tension."

"No problem," she said, relieved that he hadn't appeared to notice her slip.

* * *

Philip had been thinking all night that something about her seemed familiar. He couldn't put his finger on it, and it didn't seem to make much sense, because she was completely different from anyone he'd ever known. Why did he feel like he knew her just a little better than he should? It wasn't a kind of 'oh-my-God-I've-known-you-my-whole-life' feeling, although they did seem to have quite a few similar viewpoints on things, and he was more comfortable around her than anyone else, it was more a... déjà vu feeling. _Where have I felt this before?_

And then that kiss. Good Lord, when she'd curled up on her side like that and he saw the curve of her waist, the slow rise and fall of her decollate, he'd wanted to kiss her right then and there. Hell, he'd wanted to bury her in the pillows they were sitting on and have his way with her. But that kiss had been achingly familiar. The same familiarity that had sparked when he'd given her the chaste kiss in the Starbucks parking lot, but about one hundred times more intense. And it wasn't a fiery intensity, more like a slow burn... Like she wanted to take her time and enjoy him to the fullest while the flames grew higher and higher... God, he wanted this woman!

But it bugged him to no end that he couldn't figure out exactly _why_ she seemed so familiar! Of course, he didn't want to say anything; she'd probably think he was a complete schitzo. _You already can't remember her name; let's not add to your list of negative qualities, all right?_ Not only that, but he really needed to tell her something important and he couldn't quite find the right moment. Why potentially spoil a perfectly great evening, after all? _Sure... That's your reasoning and you're sticking to it._

Their conversation was still suffering somewhat, despite the considerably relieved tension. Occasionally, something she said would spark a strange remembrance, a memory that wouldn't quite be recalled, which would drive him crazy, or he'd attempt to talk about some non-committal subject and she'd stare off into space. Well, not exactly into space... She was quite plainly staring at him. Each time, she'd blush to the roots of her hair and apologize, just as she was doing at that moment.

"I'm sorry," she said for the third time. "You do realize how difficult it is to talk in your presence, don't you?"

"Um... No."

She stared at him, incredulously. "How many times must I remind you how hot you are? I swear, I really, truly, am trying to pay attention to the conversation... but when you're sitting there looking so damn hyper-cute-- No, this has gone way beyond hyper-cute. This is more like mega-hyper-cute. How can my brain compete with that?"

He laughed. "While I find this incredibly flattering and my head is swelling up as we speak, I really think you might be exaggerating just a little bit."

"You also have to remember that, on the inside, I'm jumping up and down like your typical rabid fan-girl. Keeping up with conversation is indeed a feat for me right now."

He smiled, an interesting turn of phrase about lack of conversation coming to mind. "Have you ever met someone you'd just like to--" He stopped, remembering that she had told him the state of her sexuality once before. "Well... I guess you haven't."

"Yes, I have!" she insisted.

He blinked. "How did you know what I was going to say?"

* * *

Chloe's eyes were huge. She'd really blown it this time! It was proving really difficult to pretend to be two people, especially when her mind was actively engrossed largely by fantasies, rather than concentrating on not giving anything away.

_This really would be so much easier if I could just tell him it was me. I had tried to before, but with all the interruptions I never got the chance... And now, after all the talk about being real, he'd hate me if I told him Miss C really is just me._

That in mind, her large eyes blinked a few times as she struggled to come up with a reason why she knew the ending to the sentence he hadn't finished. "I... I didn't."

"Then... How could you answer me?"

"I... guessed?" She shrugged, hoping he would believe her. "Given our current conversation, you were probably going to say something like, 'Have you ever met someone you'd just like to skip all the small talk with and... make out with them until their head explodes with raspberry jam?'" _Yeah, that sounded intelligent. For a third grader. But I couldn't just repeat what I said before!_

He stared at her for a moment, then laughed. "That was disgusting."

"Oh... Would you prefer strawberry?"

They laughed again, and Chloe breathed a mental sigh of relief. She really needed to stop zoning out, or she was going to blow this evening, big time.

Luckily, there were no more "slips" the rest of dinner. And Chloe found herself sufficiently spooked by that mistake to actually pay attention to what they were talking about, as difficult as it was to ignore the raging beast that wanted to jump his bones right in the restaurant.

At the same time, however, it irked her just the tiniest bit that Philip wasn't putting the pieces of the puzzle together. She had been so certain she'd given herself away that last time, and yet he hadn't made the connection. He might have been about to, but still... Was it so inconceivable that plain Chloe could be the fabulous Miss C? How... depressing.

_Hey, you should be glad he doesn't know! _she chided herself. _Remember, he'll hate you if he finds out, so quit your bitching!

* * *

_

After a perfectly wonderful meal of savory Moroccan food and much improved conversation, Chloe found her mood descending as Philip drove them back toward her place. The evening hadn't seemed very long at all, and now that she was headed home, suddenly the date was almost over. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't invite him in; even if he overlooked all the abandoned wedding plans, her place was still a huge mess, he hadn't said anything about going back to his hotel room, and she had no idea if it was considered proper dating etiquette to suggest going to someone else's hotel room.

_Is this going to be good-bye? _she thought, apprehension growing. She hoped not.

He pulled the car up to the curb and went around to the passenger side to open the door for her. She chewed on her bottom lip slightly as she took his hand to get out of the car, wondering if she should extend the invite anyway, precluded with a warning about the state of her apartment, of course. Anything to elongate the evening. But would he turn her down? It was a possibility. She wasn't sure if she could handle that...

"Philip," she began, when suddenly the last voice she expected to hear cut through the night.

"Chloe!"

With dread, she turned her head to see Jason hurrying down the steps from her door. He no longer had his key, so he must have just been knocking when they showed up. Reflexively, the hand still in Philip's grasp tightened.

"Jason, what the fuck are you doing here?" she asked, absolutely certain she didn't want to know the answer.

"Chloe, I was an idiot," he said, looking for all the world like a beaten puppy. "Please, you have to take me back. I swear, I'm a changed man, I just didn't realize what I had, but I know now that you're the only one I've ever wanted..."

She was only too aware that he'd used the words 'you have to,' and there wasn't one mention of the word 'love.' He hadn't said it since before they'd gotten engaged. Even when he groveled he was _still _an asshole. Unbelievable...

"You just _had _to darken my doorstep tonight, didn't you?" she asked.

"Excuse me," said Philip, looking back and forth between the two of them before settling again on Chloe. "Who is this?"

Jason looked at Philip, the puppy expression immediately changing to one of hostility. "I'm her fiancé," he informed the other man before Chloe had a chance to open her mouth.

Philip's eyes narrowed slightly. "_Ex-_fiancé, last I heard," he said, still not relinquishing the hand in his own.

Jason huffed, bristling almost visibly. "I was just working some stuff out..."

"Yeah," said Chloe, becoming angrier by the minute. "You had to 'work stuff out' with one of my bosses and a drag queen!"

"And correct me if I'm wrong," added Philip, not commenting on the strangeness of Chloe's previous statement. "Weren't you the one who left her five days before the wedding? I think you had your chance with her, George."

Internally, Chloe groaned. Philip's attempt at remembering a name he'd only heard once wasn't even close, and if Jason really hadn't changed, she knew exactly how he'd react.

Predictably, Jason's hands balled into fists. "Are you making fun of me, buddy?"

"If I was making fun of you, it would be obvious. What I'm going for now is disdain, although I suppose this part right here would be qualified as sarcasm."

His expression was one of mounting fury and Chloe prayed Jason wouldn't do something stupid. "Look," she said. "Jason, I really don't want to talk to you, right now or ever again, so--"

"Shut up, Chloe!"

Philip took a step closer to Jason, raising a hand threateningly. "Hey, don't tell her to shut up, asshole!"

Time suspended for precisely one second as she watched Jason's fist draw back and hang in the air for just a moment. What was worse, Philip took a defensive stance against the coming attack, rather than get out of the way. Chloe extended a hand as though she could stop what was about to happen through mere force of will.

"Philip, don't! He's--"

_Crack.

* * *

_

Chloe handed Philip a Vicodin and a glass of water, and she gently pressed a baggie of ice to his jaw as she sat down next to him on her couch.

"Ouch... Thanks," he said, after swallowing the pill.

"For what? My ex punching you in the jaw?" she asked, miserably.

"For letting me into your apartment and taking care of me. You couldn't have told me he was a black belt a little sooner?"

"I tried. There didn't seem to be enough time to get all the words out as his fist arced through the air toward your face."

He winced and handed the glass back to her, taking charge of the ice himself. She placed it on the coffee table after shoving some papers out of the way. Some of them fell on the floor, but she didn't bother to pick them up.

"I'm sorry my ex is an idiot," she said.

"I'm not. If he wasn't, then presumably, I never would have gotten the chance to date you."

She smiled, blushing. "You're very sweet. Too sweet for just having been slugged on my account. You must be feeling the Vicodin already."

He grinned, then winced as the action brought a flash of pain to his sore jaw. An answering wince of sympathy crossed Chloe's features.

"You're going to have a massive bruise," she said. "That's not good... An actor's face is crucial."

"It can be covered with makeup. Jim Carrey has a chipped tooth right in the front they always cover up."

"I take it you've never met him."

He shook his head. "I wish I had, even though it means I'll never remember his name again. I hear he's a really intelligent guy, if kind of nuts."

"After tonight's display, I could say the same thing about you," she said.

There was a pause as he reached out and traced a random design with his fingertip on the back of one of her hands before taking it in his. "I need to tell you something," he said.

_That doesn't sound good,_ she thought. "What?" she asked.

"I've wanted to tell you all night. I think it's the fact that I am rapidly becoming quite doped on Vicodin that I'm getting the courage now."

"Okay..."

He brought her hand to his lips before he continued. She stifled a sigh as nerve endings jumped to life and a tingling sensation leapt from the spot.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Her heart stuttered. "What?"

"I have to go back to L.A."

Cold lead settled in her stomach. "So... this is goodbye."

"No!" he denied adamantly, wincing at the pain it caused. "No, I don't want this to be goodbye. More like... goodbye for now."

Something in her resisted the euphoric feeling that threatened to fill her. If it sounded too good to be true, it usually was, after all. "You really want to see me again?"

"Yes. I do."

The euphoria again threatened to overflow at those words; the words that, thank God, she would never hear Jason say to her. Still, she tried to keep her senses in tact. "You're not going to forget about me when you're once again surrounded by gorgeous babes 24/7?"

"Believe me," he said. "I don't think I could ever forget you."

_Maybe not forget, but you won't recognize me,_ came a tiny, unbidden voice which she hurried to stomp down.

_Give him a chance,_ said an even tinier voice.

_You might regret it._

_It's better to have loved and lost..._

_Whoever said that never loved at all._

_Do you want to give him up forever?_

He tilted his head at her. "Carla?"

She smiled, unable to help herself. "Okay."

His gorgeous blue eyes brightened. "Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated. "How long will you be gone?"

"Well, it's an independent short some on-the-brink director is doing, and it'll probably go to Cannes, but the actual filming should only take a few weeks, maybe a month. But..." He paused. "L.A. _is_ my home. I'm not going to pressure you into anything serious," he said, hurriedly, "but... I can't stay out here indefinitely."

She bit her lip, looking down. "I see." All the good feeling she'd had washed away like low tide. "This is a very temporary thing. Even more temporary than it is now."

"Cori--"

"Chloe."

"Right, Chloe..." He sat up so he could look at her better, setting the ice down on the floor next to the couch. He took both her hands in his. "I..." He hesitated. "Philip--" he began again in third person, but then shook his head. "_I_," he said, more definitively, "I like you. I like you a lot. Way more then anyone else. You're so different. And when I'm with you, I feel like myself rather than some contrived image. I don't know if something more is going to come of this, but what I do know is that, right now, I can't stand the thought of never seeing you again. If that means I have to get on a plane whenever I want a date, then so be it. Maybe I'm a selfish prick, but I want to see where this can go. You are, quite simply, amazing."

Her head swam, the tide rapidly coming back in. "I am?" she asked, like a child suddenly given a promised toy she'd been denied for far too long.

"To me, you are."

And as he leaned forward to kiss her very gently, she somehow knew that he was telling her the absolute truth.

Of all the kisses they had shared; quick and impersonal, frenzied and passionate, intense and hot; this kiss was so far the best, at least in Chloe's opinion. Wary of hurting his jaw, this kiss was a sweet, gentle exploration; a languid expression of the supernova-like passion she knew they created together, but in no way a pale comparison. Philip had a way of turning even a simple kiss into something explosive. Of course, being an actor might have helped, but if what he said could be believed, then this was just him; no acting involved. _He really must feel something for me..._

As she carefully kissed him back, she was suddenly very aware of his muscled thigh pressing against her hip. Her temperature rose a few degrees. _I want this. It doesn't make much sense, but I want this. I want him. Should I? Am I only being hesitant because I'm scared or because I think I ought to? No... I have to take this opportunity. I've missed too many already. I can't be a coward forever._

Her hands crept up his shirt and, somewhat shakily, her fingers began undoing the buttons. He pulled back then, but only about an inch or so. His eyes searched hers, but she couldn't tell if he was shocked or surprised or what. Maybe it was both.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

Unbidden, came an amused half-smile. "Isn't it obvious?" She swallowed, the smile fading into seriousness, and she glanced down at her lap for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I want to see how far this can go, too."

"That... isn't exactly what I said."

"I know. But don't you want to?"

He was silent for a few seconds before his gaze traveled from her face to her body. As if of its own accord, one of his hands slowly drifted up and traced the line of her collarbone, followed the low collar of her dress, and traveled over the swell of her breasts, lingered there for a moment, and then down into the valley between. Her breath hitched in her throat at the feather-light touch that left goosebumps in its wake. His eyes darted up.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

The smile reappeared. "I think you know, I've never been more sure in my entire life." She felt kind of stupid asking this, like she was stuck inside that horrible movie he'd been in, but she had to ask anyway. "Will you... be careful with me?"

His smile was highly amused, but more than that, extremely understanding. "If you'll be careful with me," he said, indicating his jaw.

"I will."

She leaned forward to kiss him again. The rest of the buttons came undone. Hands and mouths searched, found, played, and searched again, clothing was shed, barriers broken, in more ways than one. Heat rose until she thought her skin might burst into flame. He took his time with her, even when the intensity built so high she writhed against him, thinking she'd had enough of this gentle, considerate loving and wanting him out of control, absolutely knowing she'd go insane unless she found some kind of release for the pressure growing inexorably inside her. But he drew her out, finer than a spider's thread, making her go higher, reach higher, until she could go no further and stars exploded behind her eyes. She shook and screamed and sobbed, and all the while, he held her tightly to him, worshipping her with soft, beautiful words in more than one language. And when it had all come to a stop, he began it all over again.

Chloe was certain neither she nor her couch would ever be the same.

* * *

It was around 3:25am when Chloe dialed the phone on the coffee table. She twirled the cord around her fingers, wondering if it would pick up. She'd never called this late before, so she didn't know...

"Hello?"

"Denise?"

"Hey, sugar." She didn't even sound tired, nor did she ask why Chloe was calling so early in the morning. Just _how_ did someone manage to be so perfect in every way? She wasn't Mary Poppins after all... "What can I do for you?"

"I, um... I turned in my V card. I can't punch it any more."

There was a long silence on the other end, and for a moment, Chloe wasn't sure if Denise would know what she meant. Then... "Oh, honey, I am so proud of you!"

She smiled. Good ol' Denise.

"But, why are you calling _me_?"

Her smile faded instantly. "My two best friends are MIA. I needed a girlfriend to tell, but one's hiding out and the other... I have no idea what's going on with her. I... thought you would understand."

"Sweetheart, we need to have coffee."

A fraction of her smile returned. "And ice cream?"

"_Loads _of ice cream. Congratulations are in order, after all. And I _am_ going to need a full report. With details, _lots_ of details."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said, her smile now a full-on grin.

She hung up the phone and carefully turned over, snuggling herself back underneath Philip's arm. Worries for Teri and Tessa still ate at her brain, but most of her thought capacity at the moment was taken by one single compulsion: Sleep.

To be continued...


	11. The Morning After

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Eleven

Philip awoke early that morning to find a very warm, naked, and cuddly Chloe very asleep beside him. Both of them were covered with the quilt that had been draped over the back of the couch, and wrapped very closely together, given the narrowness of their current sleeping arrangement. Both of them had been too tired to move to the bedroom last night. He hadn't minded. He looked down at her then and smiled as he saw her hand curled up near her mouth, a mouth he had very thoroughly kissed last night.

She'd given him a great deal by sharing herself with him, he realized. He wasn't sure if she saw it that way, but given her age and the fact that she'd waited until now, he was guessing that maybe she did. Carefully, without waking her up, he disentangled their limbs and crawled over her to get up off the couch. The least he could do was make breakfast for them. He hoped she wouldn't mind him using the bathroom and the kitchen...

He tugged on his boxers and found his way into the tiny bathroom. The bath towels on the rack were red, but the hand towels at the sink were off-white. An odd choice, considering they couldn't be washed together. It occurred to him a moment later that these were probably the towels that were on sale. The shower was a glass square and he noted that she preferred one of those poofy shower sponge things to washcloths. _Either that, or washcloths weren't on sale,_ he thought. Other than that, a small bowl of potpourri decorated the countertop, a framed picture of a mermaid brushing her hair adorned the wall, and --he smiled-- the ticket he had given her to attend the after-party was taped to the mirror of the medicine cabinet.

The smile melted to a confused frown, however, when he saw that the ticket was still intact. The little stub on the right hand side wasn't torn off.

_But she said she went, _he thought. _And she had the nametag that said 'Allegory Pictures, Inc' on it. You could only get one of those by getting into the party. _The frown deepened slightly. _Wait... When she put the nametag on that time I saw her, she had to peel the paper off the back. That would mean she never used it. But if she went to the party, then why... _He glanced back out into the living room where Chloe still slept. An idea was forming in his head, but...

He walked out to the couch and sat down at the edge, much as she had last night. Very gently, he brushed a few strands of her hair out of her face.

* * *

Chloe awoke very slowly. Her brain was sluggish, finding her current environment much too warm and cozy to willingly leave. _Shouldn't my alarm have gone off by now?_ she thought, sleepily. _I should get up and check... but I don't wanna..._ Eventually, her eyes crept open and Philip swam into her line of vision. She smiled, remembering the night before, then yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

"Heyyyy..." she said, thickly.

He smiled back at her. "Hey," he answered. "How do you feel?"

She took inventory for a moment. "A little sore, but other than that... Fabulous."

"I'm glad." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I was going to make breakfast for you, but I don't know what you like, so I thought we could go out. I've got three hours before my flight."

She, too, craned her neck to look at the clock, and groaned. "I've got thirty minutes before I have to leave for work."

"Oh..."

"You could go with me," she offered. "Ginger and the others won't be there this early. I mean, they are _supposed _to be there, but what are the odds of them actually coming in on time?"

He considered, then shook his head. "I'd better not. It's best not to tempt fate, after all." He watched as her gaze slipped from his, her smile faltering somewhat. "Don't," he said.

"Don't what?" she asked.

"Start telling me that I don't really have to keep seeing you, calling you, whatever. I still like you, and my mind hasn't changed." He paused for a moment. "Actually, I take that back. I like you even more this morning than I did last night."

She stared at him. "How did you know that was along the lines of what I was going to say?"

"You had this look on your face that I am coming to associate with your 'self-depreciating' moments. I'm going to have to do something about that, you know."

"It might take you awhile," she warned. "Tessa and Teri have been working on me for three years."

He leaned down and nuzzled her next to her ear. "I'll take my time," he whispered, echoing something he'd said the night before, and she blushed.

"All right," she said, beginning to get up before he could distract her further. "We both need to get ready to go. Coffee?"

"Please."

Twenty minutes later, they both stood on Chloe's little driveway, keys in hand. Philip wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to kiss her thoroughly, despite his bruised jaw.

"I'm going to get you a cell phone," he said, holding her tightly to him.

"I have three."

"They aren't _yours._ I'm going to get you a cell phone only _I _know the number to. Give it to your friends, if you want, just don't let Ginger get her claws on it."

She nodded. "It'll be nice to have a phone _I_ can pick the ringtone for and that I'll actually _want_ to receive calls on."

"It'll be like the Bat Phone. To the airport, Girl-Wonder!" he said in his best Adam West. "Your boyfriend's coming into town!"

She shook her head at him. "Okay, Mr. Grayson, enough with the Batman references." She glanced up at him shyly. "So... You're my boyfriend?"

"Do you know anyone else who is? Or maybe you'd prefer 'significant other?'"

"No, no!" she assured him. "'Boyfriend' is great!"

He smiled. "I am, aren't I?"

She groaned. "Okay, that's enough of that. If we don't say goodbye, we're never going to."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Maybe not for a while, but then I'll probably get fired and you'll be in big trouble."

"Yeah..." he agreed. "Allen would probably have a coronary."

"And we don't want that. Then again, wasn't he the guy who set you up with Ginger?"

"He had the best of intentions."

"Most people who set themselves up to see Ginger usually do." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, carefully, so as not to upset his already darkening jaw. "Fly safely. I'll look forward to getting my new phone."

"I may just show up and give it to you."

"Even better."

He ran his fingers across her cheek, smiled, kissed her again, and reluctantly they both climbed into their cars, driving off in opposite directions; Chloe to the office, where she barely registered any of the Triumvirate's complaints all day...

* * *

...and Philip to the airport, where he caught Allen picking up their tickets from the express/VIP lane.

"Hey, Allen," he said, to his agent's turned back.

"Philip, you do realize you never called me last night, don't y--aaaaaagh!" he screamed in mid-sentence, cutting himself off as he turned and caught sight of Philip. "What _happened _to your face!"

"I had an argument with a fist and my face lost," he replied, nonchalantly.

Allen's face was rapidly turning an interesting shade of purple. He sputtered for a few moments before squeaking out, "You don't get to go out on any more dates!"

He shrugged. "Fine. Then I'm not doing any more movies."

The purple flushed to bright red. "But--! But--! You--!" He wagged his finger impotently at his client before giving up and sighing. "You're going to kill me one of these days..."

* * *

"No, I still haven't heard anything from Teri, Danny," Chloe said into her new red cell phone. Philip had insisted it be red and the kicker was that it lit up when it rang. She'd just smiled and shook her head when he'd given it to her, showing up on her doorstep with it, as promised. How could she resist or say no when he was so darned cute about it?

"It's been three weeks!" said Danny.

"You say that like I don't know," she said with a sigh. "I'm sure she's all right. She said she'd call when she thought it was safe, and she's still sending in work to the office, right?"

"As far as my reports go, she's doing all her work by email."

She paused for a moment as she punched the button on the signal to walk across the street. Parking at the Canard was horrid that day, she'd had to park around the corner. "Do you think Ginger could trace that?" she asked.

"Ginger wouldn't know how. You know she never goes near a computer. 'The radiation causes wrinkles,'" he said in a credible imitation of their boss' voice. "She can't even boot up a game, let alone surf through someone's files. She'd have to pay someone to do it for her, and that someone is me, the fount of information as well as random fuck-toy."

"Someone's taken their dose of venom today," said Chloe, surprised at his tone, despite the fact that he was talking about Ginger. It was a well-known fact that Ginger kept Danny's balls in a mason jar as a paperweight on her desk, and on occasion, she let him _look _at the jar, but that was it. So, his vehemence was, to say the least, a bit unexpected from someone as docile as he tended to be.

"I'm just so angry," he said. "But as long as I play dumb and pretend that Teri's dropped off the face of the earth, she's safe."

"And as long as Ginger doesn't go on your computer."

"Like I said, that's not going to happen."

"I guess-- Hey, Danny, I have to go, someone's beeping the line."

"Okay, see you tomorrow at work."

"Right." She switched the line over. "Hello?" She relished once again the feel of not having to answer the phone with her name.

"Hello, Clara!"

She giggled. "Hi, Philip."

"Was I close?"

"You got the first sound right. Chloe."

"Augh... Right. Chloe." He really had been making an effort. It seemed to annoy him more than it did her that he couldn't remember her name. "What are you doing in a couple of days?"

"Am I going out with you?" she asked, hopefully.

"Yes, you are." She could hear the smile in his voice. "I have a free day this Wednesday. Your place, seven o'clock?"

"It's a date."

"Great. Gotta go. I'm on set right now."

"Bad boy, using your cell phone on company time," she scolded, playfully.

"Will I be punished?" he asked, and she could just hear him grinning.

"I'll think about it," she said, playing along. "I'll see you Wednesday, Philip."

"I can't wait."

As Chloe flipped the phone closed, a hand, seemingly in slow-motion, snaked out from the alley she was passing. The fingers clamped around her wrist and without warning, she was pulled into the darkened corridor.

"Think he's catching on to you, Miss C?"

She looked up in utter shock to see a man she'd only met twice before, but who gave her a creepy feeling she couldn't quite forget. She was so caught off-guard by the fact that he had recognized her as Miss C, she completely forgot to scream. Instead, the only response that came to mind was, "H-huh?"

His smile was slow and knowing. "Playing coy. How cute. So, what's your real name? I promise to remember it."

The dig at Philip's expense was not lost on her, and there was no way she was going to tell him her name. 'Chloe' had never met Hector! _Play dumb,_ she thought. "Um... I don't know who you--"

His smile faded instantly and his dark blue eyes seemed to swallow her up. "_Tell me your name_."

"Chloe Ashton." Her eyes went wide. _WHY did I tell him that?_ She hadn't wanted to, but her mouth had moved on its own, instantly, the moment he'd demanded it of her. Her heart pounded, beginning to panic. "Wha-What do you want?" she asked.

The smile returned, but there was no amusement in it this time. There was something decidedly sinister about it. "I want to know what Philip Grayson tastes when he kisses you."

"What?"

"_Don't move_."

Suddenly, she was frozen against the wall of the alley. Every instinct was screaming in her to get away, but none of her muscles would obey her. She couldn't speak, or even look away. Slowly, his hand came up to span her throat. He didn't squeeze, but she could somehow feel the coiled strength lying in wait, and knew he could snap her neck if he wanted to. He leaned closer and closer, filling up her entire line of vision...

A high-pitched ringing cut through the scene.

"Fuck," Hector spat out, his expression distorting to one of intense annoyance. He leaned back from Chloe, never having reached his intended destination. "Maybe another time," he said, mockingly throwing back Miss C's words from the last time they'd met. She wasn't sure how, but he produced a small white card in his hand and slowly, he slid it into the front pocket of her shirt, the paper rasping over her suddenly overly-sensitive skin through the cotton.

Then he left, fishing a still-ringing cell phone out of his jacket pocket. It wasn't until he was completely gone from the alley and out of her line of vision that her knees went liquid and she crumpled against the wall. Whatever spell had been on her, it was gone now. She wasn't sure what had just happened; suddenly, everything seemed rather cloudy...

She took the card out of her pocket and examined it. It was the plainest business card she'd ever seen; it only had a telephone number on it and nothing else, not even his name.

_Okay,_ she thought, finding her legs and heading out of the alley as quickly as she could manage._ I am _seriously _creeped out now! _

What could she do about it, though? It wasn't as though she had any evidence that would be useful in filing a restraining order against a stalker. It was weeks between the times she saw him, she didn't even know his last name, and there were no witnesses to an assault and battery. She couldn't very well tell the police she had a _feeling _about this guy.

She crumpled the card up and threw it in her purse. Later, she could think about what to do to avoid meeting up with Hector again. She was already late for coffee and chocolate with Denise.

* * *

The blond smiled from a sunny table at Le Cher Canard and waved Chloe over from the hostess' pedestal. She handed her a newspaper, folded over to reveal the headline, 'Philip Carter Grayson – Celibate Celebrity?'

Chloe giggled as she sat down and took the tabloid from Denise. She opened it to see a half-page collage of pictures, all featuring Philip, going to various events by himself. The article was short, basically expressing confusion on why he was going everywhere stag and how he wouldn't comment, except to say he's being exclusive, but he wouldn't say with whom. She also noticed that it was on page six. He was no longer front page news, which explained the lame title of the article.

"He's staying true to his word, isn't he, hon," said Denise with a sly feline smile, but it wasn't a question.

"He hasn't dated anyone else since he left," said Chloe, gleefully. "He's scoring major points in the honesty department." The thought made her feel a little guilty, seeing as she hadn't been completely honest with him...

"When are you seeing him again?"

"In a few days."

"Be careful of photographers. Especially since they're losing some interest, when he travels, they're probably going to assume, and correctly, that he's seeing you. They'll be watching for that."

Chloe shook her head. "I'm not worried. Any photographer who sees me with him is going to assume I'm his sister or something."

Denise shrugged, delicately picking up her coffee cup. "I'm just saying... Be careful."

Thinking of earlier, although entirely unrelated, she took heed to the warning and nodded. "I will."

To be continued...


	12. An Invitation Issued and Tragedy Strikes

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Twelve

_Oh, shit_, were the only two words that came into Chloe's head as she opened up the _Weekly World News_ almost a week later. There was nothing in it about her intermittent dates with Philip over the past near-month, but right there on the front page was a huge, black and white, slightly fuzzy image of Miss C and Philip locked in a heated embrace in a hotel elevator. Sure, it was a month old, but only she, Philip, and the guards knew that. The date at the bottom of the screen was conveniently missing. To the rest of the world, it could have happened yesterday.

_Those fucking security guards,_ she thought. _They must have sold the surveillance tape. And those tabloid vultures... They were so desperate for some news on Philip that they bought it. Another 'mystery woman' encounter... And Ginger's going to know exactly who this mystery woman is. Well, hopefully she won't know it's _me,_ but she's going to want Miss C's ass on a pike even more than she already does..._

She looked at the cover for a few more minutes before a new thought blocked the imminent wrath of Ginger from her mind.

_He's going to expect me to say something about this, _she thought. _As his girlfriend, I should get really angry and want him to explain. But if I do that... I'm going to have to lie to him again. And this whole situation will just be a lie on top of another lie and so on._

She smoothed out the paper and took a critical look at it. _It's kind of blurry... It could possibly not be him, if I didn't know any better... _She opened the paper to the full two-page spread and found herself staring at a close-up of the two of them. There could be no doubt that the male in the picture was Philip Carter Grayson. _Damn..._ _What do I do?_

She crumpled the newspaper up and threw it in the trash can under her desk. _I never saw this, _she decided. _Sure, it's a lame excuse, considering I work in advertising,_ _but I'm busy enough to not read papers. I just won't say anything. If he brings it up, then... I'll cross that bridge if I get to it. In the meantime... I just can't lie to him anymore._ She couldn't deny, however, that part of her did want him to call and explain. He didn't know they were the same person, so Chloe wouldn't know that this had happened before they had gotten together. The night before, in fact. Shouldn't he call and tell her all this?

She nearly jumped out of her chair when a large manila envelope was slapped violently down on her desk. Her eyes darted up to find Ginger standing there, with all the evils of Hell burning in her expression. Chloe paled. She didn't even need to ask if Ginger had seen the papers this morning.

"Print it," her boss growled.

With some hesitance, Chloe took the envelope and glanced over the specs. It was something she hadn't seen, which meant that Ginger had created this and proof-read it herself, and that just _didn't_ happen. "This is for a party in _three_ days," she said.

"And that's why you have to get it to print _now!"_ said Ginger, her tone brooking no argument. "I want it in all of the major papers, all over the city, and I want it done _now,_ Chloe!" She stomped off to her office and slammed the door behind her.

After breathing a sigh of relief that the blurry images and the disguise hadn't failed her, she turned a page in the folder to see the rest of the ad. Ginger was advertising a party, held by Philip Carter Grayson, which was strange, since Philip's contract with Premiere expired two weeks ago. The party was scheduled for three days from then, formal affair, at the medieval hotel across town, pretty standard stuff, except for the fact that Philip hadn't told her about any of this... Maybe Allen had set it up?

And then she turned the next page.

_--Philip Carter Grayson requests the exclusive presence of the mystery woman known only as Miss C to be his special guest for the evening--_

Her eyes widened. _What?_ Allen wouldn't have known about that, the party most definitely had been set up by Philip. But why was he asking for Miss C? Was he going to break up with Chloe? _Okay, so maybe you've kind of been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but... Things had been going so well... _She opened the drawer next to her and reached for the red phone, but then stopped. _No... I can't call him. What if he breaks up with me over the phone? Sure, it's not as bad as being broken up with by fax, but still... Wait, okay, calm down... Maybe he's not going to break up with me. Maybe he just wants to talk to Miss C. I have no idea what for or why he'd throw a giant party to do it, but..._

"_NOW_, CHLOE!" bellowed Ginger from the office.

Chloe leapt from her desk with the manila folder and practically ran out the door. She would just have to go to the party to find out what was going on. And that meant an appointment with Denise...

* * *

"PHILIP!"

Philip closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. He'd recognize his agent's panicked holler anywhere. Sure enough, Allen came rushing into the makeup room two seconds later, waving a newspaper in his hand.

"What's wrong now, Allen?" he asked.

"You can't throw a party! You have too much to do!" he said. "And I thought you weren't going back there until next weekend?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" he warned, shaking a finger at him. "I called the hotel; they confirmed your reservations for the ballroom tomorrow." He again waved the newspaper in Philip's face. "Do you even _know _how busy you are? You don't have time to do this!"

Philip snatched the paper away from him. Since Allen wasn't making any sense as per usual, he'd have to find out the answers for himself. It wasn't hard... The article about the ad took up an entire page. Apparently, it was big enough news to hit the stands all the way out in LA...

His brow furrowed in confusion when he got the gist of what was going on. "I didn't set this up," he said. At Allen's scoffing, he set down the paper and looked at him. "I _didn't,_" he repeated. "Quit treating me like a kid. I _know_ I'm busy, so I _wouldn't _have set this up, I'm just as surprised as you are." He looked over the ad again, and stopped when he saw the trademark at the bottom. "Premiere Advertising," he read out loud. "My contract with them expired..." He paused. _Ginger's behind this, _he thought, suddenly. _She's going to find out who Miss C is at all costs because she's out of her merry little mind. Oh, no..._

He threw the paper aside and picked up his cell phone, speed-dialing Chloe. It rang four times before going to voice mail. _Damn it, she's not picking up..._ He sighed and ended the call. "Allen?"

"What?"

"I've got a party to go to."

* * *

_Gotta hurry, gotta hurry, gotta hurry,_ Chloe repeated over and over in her head as she blazed through her reports at the end of the day. _I've got to make my appointment with Denise; I've got to get to the party... _She glanced at the clock, it was already after five. She sighed, typing faster. _Gotta hurry, gotta hurry, gotta hurry..._

The office line rang. Even though it was after hours, she automatically picked it up. "Ginger Carlyle's office, she's gone home for the day--"

"Chloe, it's me."

"Danny? What's wrong?" He sounded... heartbroken. "Can you tell me quick? I have to go--"

"It's Teri."

Her fingers skittered across the keys and she stopped typing. Something inside her filled with dread. "What about Teri?"

"They found her. She's... in the hospital."

She dropped the phone. Without finishing her work, turning off the computer, or even grabbing her phones from the desk drawer, she took her purse and ran for the parking garage.

Danny opened the door to the private room for her when she arrived, out of breath. His face was ashen.

"How is she?" Chloe asked at once, not even greeting him.

He didn't seem to notice or care. "She's..." He swallowed, having some trouble getting the words out. "She's in a coma."

She swayed slightly, but Danny put a hand to her shoulder to steady her. "I'm fine," she said. "Just... tell me what happened."

"I don't know who it was, but Ginger got somebody to hack into my computer. She traced Teri to the university through the email." He fell into a nearby chair and buried his face in his hands. "This is all my fault... I should have listened to you..."

Chloe sat down next to him, dropping her purse on the floor. "It's not your fault..." she said, kindly. "Then what happened?"

He swallowed thickly before continuing. "The second I found out my files had been messed with, I drove down there. The guys she was living with--"

"Teri was living with guys?"

"This isn't the time to explain about that." At Chloe's nod, he went on. "The guys had found her. It was too late to stop her by the time any of us got there... But I found a weak pulse, and an ambulance brought her here."

"Stop her from what?"

"Oh... Ingested toxin... The doctor's aren't sure yet what kind was used..." Danny broke down then, unable to continue his explanations.

Chloe rose from the chair and went to the curtain separating her from her friend. As she pulled it back, her breath caught in her throat. Teri looked so small and pale underneath the hospital blanket, fluids going from a suspended bag above her to her arm through a tube. Silent, and unsmiling, Teri had never looked less like herself. Chloe's eyes filled with tears, her heart filled with anger.

"We've got to stop Ginger," she said. "She's gone absolutely crazy."

"I can't help you anymore," Danny said, miserably looking up at her. "I quit my job."

"You... You actually stood up to Ginger?" she asked, incredulously.

He nodded.

All at once, she began laughing and crying uncontrollably. "Oh, Danny, I'm so proud of you!" she said, tears rolling across her cheeks. "You finally got your balls out of the jar!" She looked at Teri's unmoving form, the tears beginning to come faster. "Didn't you hear me, Teri? Why aren't you laughing? Sit up and laugh, damn it! Make some sick comment about re-attaching them! Say _something!_ Please!"

Danny wrapped his arms around her as she began to sob noisily, unable to say anything else. Chloe buried her face against his shoulder and just gave herself up to the emotion. She'd never felt so very empty before, with one friend gone and the other seeming so close to death, she was on her own. And the empty place inside just kept filling with hopelessness the more she cried...

The door opened then and both of them looked up to see Dennis peeking his head into the room.

"Sweetheart, you were supposed to be at the salon an hour ago," he said. "But as I understand it, you've had an unavoidable delay."

Chloe stood back from Danny and wiped at her face to little effect. "I'm sorry, Dennis... I should have called you, but... Oh..." She gestured between Danny and Dennis as she continued to dab at her eyes. "Danny, this is Dennis. Dennis, Danny."

Dennis' eyes lit up as he came into the room. "Hel-looo, handsome," he said.

"I'm straight," Danny blurted.

"Does that really matter?"

"Yes!"

Dennis sighed. "That's too bad." He shrugged. "Oh, well." He opened the door again and pulled inside what looked like a giant tool chest on wheels. "I came prepared, sugar. We can get you all ready for the party right here."

She shook her head. "I'm not going."

"What?"

"I can't," she said. "My best friend is in the hospital!"

Dennis put his hands to his hips and tilted his head at Chloe. "Now, is that what you think your friend would want you to do? Stay here and get your eyes all red and puffy over her, or go out and find out what the heck is going on with your boy-toy?" He looked over at Teri, his forehead wrinkling slightly. "Oh, now, honey... That look is _so_ not working for you." From one of the drawers of the tool chest, he produced a sparkling tiara and placed it on her head. "There you go, princess. You know I'm right, don't you?" He looked back at Chloe. "She says 'hell, yes.'"

"Maybe you _should_ go," said Danny.

"_What?_" She stared at him. "And leave Teri like this?"

"She's not going anywhere," he pointed out. "And neither am I. I'll stay with her. What's more important is the fact that you know Ginger's going to be at this party. Since you're the only one with access to her now, you have to go. For Teri's sake."

"For your own sake, too," said Dennis. "Are you going to let that bitch sink her teeth in your man when you don't show up?"

She bit her lip, thinking it all over. "You're right," she said, at last. "I have to go." She smiled, faintly. "I _was _invited, after all."

Dennis grinned. "Wonderful! Now let's get your head in that bathroom sink."

"Huh? I thought we were going to use hairpieces or a wig or something... You know, like normal."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, sugar; we're going to use hairpieces. Extensions, to be exact. But this is a special occasion. And that calls for something a little more... well, _more_." He looked over at Teri. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Of course, you do."

Chloe managed a soft laugh. Teri dressed up even less than she did. A shirt with buttons was considered work attire. When she saw the inside of a salon, it was because Tessa dragged her. She would have had no idea what Dennis was talking about, but it was lightening to have Teri included in the conversation.

"We're going to use your real hair this time," he said.

"This?" she asked, holding up a limp strand of ash blond nothingness. "Forgive me if I seem to doubt your abilities, Dennis, but... I don't think even you can help this mess. And I'm not sure if we have time for--"

"Nonsense," he said. "There's always time for proper hair management. Now, shut up and get your head to that sink!"

Working with Chloe's natural ash color, Dennis executed a heavy weave all over her head to lighten her to a soft baby blond. After a power blow-dry, he twisted pieces of her hair up into complex knots and secured them with tiny sparkly silver clips from which descended the blond extensions. They curled downward, framing her face, and the rest of her hair cascaded down her back. The whole thing was topped off with the tiara, re-commandeered from Teri's head. The make-up included gray and silver eye shadow which made her green eyes enormous and very bright; her lips were more subtle, with a light neutral pink color followed by a lip plumper gloss.

Lastly, Dennis took a dress bag from the top of the tool chest and handed it to her. "The finishing touch," he said.

"I really would like to know where you get these clothes," said Chloe. "And how they fit me so perfectly..."

"Actually, this is something I got from _your _closet," he said with a smile.

"_My_ closet?" she repeated. But there was nothing in there that he could use... Was there? He left her alone in the bathroom to change and she unzipped the bag.

Inside, she found her wedding dress.

Except that it was no longer a wedding dress. It had been altered considerably. The train had been cut off and new panels had been inserted to accommodate her larger size. The sleeves had been shortened, many of the ruffles and much of the petticoat had been removed, and the whole thing had been dyed a light blue. It now looked like a formal gown.

"Honey, if you cry, your mascara is going to run," said Dennis from outside the bathroom.

How he knew she had been about cry, she had no idea. But she blinked the tears away and carefully changed into the beautiful gown. It fit her like he'd known her exact measurements. The skirt moved gracefully around her feet. Her waist felt incredibly tiny. Her reflection in the mirror spoke volumes and that was a good thing, because she was speechless. She looked, and felt, like a princess.

When she came out of the bathroom, Danny's mouth fell open.

"You... You clean up... good," he said, apparently at a loss. "If I hadn't seen the transformation myself, I would never believe you were Chloe Ashton."

"Thanks," she said, dryly.

"Oh, pay no attention to him," said Dennis. "He's just a man." He smiled at his creation. "You look absolutely stunning. And you are going to blow that man away. In more ways than one, I hope."

"Dennis!"

"Oh, come on! Teri thought it was funny!"

She smiled. "Yeah... I'm sure she does." She buckled on the trademark rhinestone shoes. "All right, I'm ready." She glanced at the clock and her smile fell in dismay. She hadn't realized that the switch from Chloe to Miss C had taken so much longer than usual this time. "It's almost eleven! I'll never make it across town in my piece of junk car. The party's only going on until midnight." She looked hopefully at Dennis. "I don't suppose your cabbie friend--"

He shook his head. "Tonight's Kevin's night off."

Chloe frantically searched for a way she could get to the party. Suddenly, she looked up at the hairdresser, hope dawning in her expression. "Dennis," she said, going over to him. "I don't know how you do it, but you're always right where you need to be, right when you need to be there. I won't ask questions, I don't care how you do it, but please, get me to that party!"

Dennis smiled. "Close your eyes." He glanced at Danny. "You, too, cutie."

Chloe closed her eyes and waited. And waited. "Dennis?" she ventured. She opened her eyes again.

She stood at the entrance to the palace. The hotel the party was taking place at.

She gaped for a moment, then shook her head. "No questions. Just accept." With an air of determination, she headed inside.

To be continued...


	13. The Final Ball

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Thirteen

Upon entering the hotel, Chloe was immediately struck by a sense of overwhelming disorientation. Milling about everywhere were woman of various ages, but every single one of them was dressed in red, in versions of either what she'd worn to the after-party or to the Canary Club. All of them sported either caramel hairpieces or cropped platinum wigs.

_It's like that number out of 'How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying,' _thought Chloe.

And each one of them turned to watch her enter. Of course, being all in blue, she stood out like a peacock among hens. Instantly, all eyes narrowed. Somehow, every woman knew that this was the real Miss C, and she would be the one to get the prize they all sought.

Chloe swallowed and bravely made her way through them, head held high, as she ascended the staircase at the center of the lobby. According to the signs posted, the Crystal Ballroom was near the end of the long hallway. She passed by the fountain at the top of the stairs, a few banquet rooms, the hotel restaurant, and loud music was coming from a small entertainment area outside the bar. Apparently, some kids were playing one of those dancing video games...

"Fine, Chloe," said a very familiar voice as she passed by the area. "Don't even say hello. I don't want to talk to you anyway... bitch."

She wheeled around, her eyes gone wide. "_Tessa?_"

Her best friend was sitting in one of the chairs a fair distance away from the video games. She'd lost a ton of weight, she looked incredible in her black formal gown, her hair was lustrous, and, this was very new, she looked amazingly confident, but it was undoubtedly Tessa. She smiled at Chloe. "Hey," she said.

She ran over to her, wrapping her tightly in a hug the moment she stood up. "Oh, my God, Tessa! I've missed you! Where have you been?" She paused momentarily. "And how did you know it was me?"

"You're the only person I know who wears that perfume," she said, confusing Chloe even more. "I've missed you, too."

"So, where's Jeff? Are you guys still... together? And, uh... serious?"

Tessa grinned and held up her left hand. A solitary diamond sparkled from her third finger. "Yeah. We're serious."

"Oh, my _God_! Tessa!" She hugged her again. "Well, where is he?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh... There's my goofy jumping bean, over there," she said, nodding toward the Dance Maniac game which was currently blasting _Play That Funky Music, White Boy._

Chloe watched Jeff jump around in his tuxedo for a moment, bewildered. "Is he... having a seizure?"

"I thought so, too, the first time. But apparently, that's how the game is played." She turned her attention back to Chloe. "How's Teri?"

She hesitated. "Oh, yeah... You don't know."

"Know what?"

"Teri's in the hospital."

Tessa's genial expression fell into one of deadly seriousness. "What?" The word was pitched in such a low tone, it could only be described as growled, which sent a shiver down Chloe's spine, even though she knew the hostility wasn't directed at her. "Tell me what happened, Chloe."

She almost didn't want to, Tessa sounded so threatening, but she went on. "Ginger's been trying to kill her."

"Hey, Tessa!" Jeff said as he came hurrying up to the two of them. "I just got--" He stopped, seeing the look of building anger on her face. Chloe knew that look. That was Tessa losing control, but she'd never seen it on such an enormous scale before. She looked as though she might actually murder someone. Immediately, Jeff took Tessa's shoulders in his hands and turned her to face him. "Hey, calm down," he said in a low, even tone. "Breathe it out."

Tessa took a long, calming breath, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she and Jeff exchanged a look that Chloe didn't understand. Jeff then looked at Chloe. "Did I hear you right?" he asked, even though Chloe wasn't sure how he could have heard them with that loud music playing. "Your boss tried to kill Teri?"

"Well, she hired someone to do it, but..."

"Wait!" Tessa practically screeched. Before Chloe could ask what was going on, her friend seized her purse and began rifling through it.

"Hey! What are you--" Chloe began.

"This!" said Tessa, prizing up a fistful of things from Chloe's purse. She opened up her hand to Jeff, showing him what appeared to be a lipstick, a few crumpled receipts, a wadded up business card, and some hair pins. "Smell this!" she demanded of him.

Chloe couldn't understand her friend's behavior. She wasn't acting quite... sane. She could understand her being upset by the news of Teri's hospitalization, and while Tessa wasn't the type to break down and cry, it didn't make sense that she was frantic, almost bordering on paranoia, and angry beyond belief. To her continued confusion, Jeff did as Tessa bade him, but oddly enough, the action seemed completely natural between the two of them. Jeff's expression hardened, and suddenly, he was no longer the goofy waiter Chloe knew. He looked implacable and formidable, even. A man to be reckoned with.

In a fit of rage, Tessa balled her fist up, reared it back, and threw the contents across the room with all her might. Now, granted, the only thing of any considerable mass was the lipstick, so Chloe was quite shocked when it hit the Dance Maniac game and broke the glass console screen with a loud crash and an even louder pop that sounded like a gunshot. A second look, around all the people who were then running away from the smoking machine, revealed that the hairpins had stuck in the wall like thrown knives.

Jeff, who hadn't appeared phased by any of this, looked at Chloe, very seriously. "Don't leave the party. We have to go do something, but we'll come back for you. Especially don't leave the party with anyone strange, got it?"

She nodded, taking her purse back. Tessa was already rapidly moving off in the direction of the staircase. Jeff jogged off to catch up to her. Over his shoulder, he said, "Hi, by the way, Chloe!"

Stunned as she was by that encounter, it took her a moment to recover herself and begin heading once more toward the designated banquet hall.

* * *

Ginger was standing at the head of the Crystal Ballroom, fending off continuous demands as to where the guest of honor was. With increasing impatience, she explained that Mr. Grayson was very busy and he'd be late if he made it at all, but he was trying very hard to get there...

"Do you know how difficult it is to rent a decent tux in three hours?" Philip asked her as he approached from behind, having entered through the connecting kitchen.

Ginger jumped a mile. "Mr. Grayson!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "What an... unexpected surprise."

"I'll bet," he said. "I didn't give you permission to throw this party in my name."

"Well, yes, you did," said Ginger. "It's in your contract--"

"Which expired over two weeks ago," he interrupted. "As I'm sure you're well aware."

"I thought you'd be pleased," she said, giving him a pout that undoubtedly worked on many an unsuspecting man. "After all, we're finding your 'mystery woman' for you..."

Philip knew better than to try and get the real reason out of Ginger. She was too smooth for that. "If I thought it was possible, I would say you might be more interested in finding her than I am. You're about to be in a lot of trouble, Ms. Sarbile, and you'll be hearing from my people in the morning. If I were you, I'd call off this ridiculous farce right now while you can still try and save face. Now, excuse me..."

He disappeared through the kitchen before any of the women in the room found out he was there. That would put a dent in his plan to rescue the real guest of honor. Going around the back, he found his way to the ballroom hallway and scanned the area. For some reason, people were running for the lobby staircase, which made it a little difficult to see, but his eyes found their target unerringly.

She was a vision in her light blue gown amidst the sea of red and black, her blond hair was ethereal in the false candlelight. She had her back to him, her face in profile. She looked a little lost, but he couldn't blame her for not being able to find the right hall in all the chaos. He weaved his way through the people and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Come with me," he said before taking her hand and leading her away.

* * *

Chloe followed Philip as he led the way to the nearest door marked 'Moonlight Banquet Hall.' He tried the handle as though he wasn't sure it would open, but the door yielded and they went inside the dim empty room. Instantly, he was kissing her.

"I didn't arrange this party," he told her, between kisses. "And I didn't invite you." More kisses. "I came because I had to warn you that Ginny's going to try and find you out."

"How very considerate," she said, during a break for air.

He kissed her one more time before pulling away, his hands framing her face. His eyes searched hers before he asked her, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She blinked. "Tell you what?"

"You had the whole ticket. The stub wasn't torn. But you had to have gone because you had the name tag. But you didn't wear it."

Her eyes went wide and she backed away from him a few steps until her back hit the door they'd come through. "I... don't know what you're..." _No, _she thought. _I don't want to lie to him again. _She glanced around them for a way out, but she was leaning up against the nearest exit.

"I know it's you," Philip was saying. "The way you said certain things... And every time I kissed you, I felt like I'd done it before. That, and you talk in your sleep."

Somewhere, a clock began to chime the hour. _It must be midnight,_ she thought.

"I don't know why I didn't see it before now, you really were right in front of me the entire time. I think, in my heart, I knew. Because it has to be you, I _know_ it's you. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked again.

"Oh, God," she said, her voice trembling. Everything was crumbling apart inside and falling down around her. After everything he'd said, and everything she'd done... There was no hope for it. "You must _hate_ me..." Suddenly, she couldn't look at him anymore. She didn't want to cry in front of him. And she couldn't stand to wait there and have him tell her just exactly how much he hated her. Quickly, she turned and opened the door.

"Wait!" he said, but the door crashed into his shoulder as she opened it, stopping him from grabbing her. "Ow!" It took him a moment to recover, and she ran down the hallway.

He followed. His progress was hampered by the fact that many more people were running for the staircase then, and just about every bellboy in the hotel was running in the opposite direction with fire extinguishers. He tried to make up for the distance between them by yelling after her. That progress was hampered as well... "Stop! Wait! Catherine! Kelly! Cassandra! Candy! Cora!..."

Chloe was having problems of her own. As she ran, she tripped over the hem of her gown, tearing a hole through the bottom. She could feel the clip-extensions coming loose and some were falling out, letting her hair come down. As she ran by a potted tree too closely, one of her sleeves caught and ripped. She kept running, dodging around people as best she could, despite the fact that things were literally starting to fall apart.

Worst of all, as she rounded a corner the strap of her right shoe broke and she tripped, falling flat on her face. The tiara flew off her head. She got up quickly enough, tearing another hole through the gown in the process and ripping the gauze overlay, but she had to leave the shoe wherever it had fallen from her foot. _I'm sorry, Dennis, _she thought as she ran for the nearing staircase. _I'll work out a payment plan and buy you a new pair._ Three more of her extensions came out as she wrenched off the other shoe while continuing to run.

Meanwhile, the guessing game continued at a distance behind her. "...Chandra! Cindy! Colleen! Clarice! Cleo!..." Then, at the final stroke of midnight, "CHLOE!"

She skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs, performing an odd kind of pirouette and losing the rest of her extensions to turn around and gape at Philip, who had also stopped running and looked just about as stunned as she felt. He'd actually remembered her name! She couldn't stop because of that, though... She turned around to keep running and found herself nose to nose with the last person she'd wanted to face.

Ginger's sparkly eyes narrowed to dangerous cat-like slits. "Chloe," she hissed in a voice devoid of anything but hate. "It was _you_," she said. Her fingers curved into claws and she grabbed Chloe by the shoulders, probably about to tear her limb from limb with her bare hands. "_You_... My own _secretary_!"

She couldn't stay and take Ginger's abuse now. "I don't have time to deal with you!" Chloe told her, trying to squirm out of her grip.

"You _what?_" said Ginger, who was only holding her tighter and more painfully.

"I..." She glanced over at Philip, who was starting to run toward her again. She struggled violently and she and Ginger maneuvered an odd dance, turning in a circle at the top of the stairs, but Ginger refused to let go. Taking a leaf from Tessa's book, Chloe drew back her fist. "I... I quit!" she yelled, punching her ex-boss in the face with all the strength she could muster.

Ginger reeled back, her legs hitting the edge of the large marble fountain that was the focal point of the stairs. Her balance was lost because of the six inch heels she was wearing, and she teetered for one glorious second, then fell with a great splash into the water.

Chloe didn't stay to find out what would happen when Ginger surfaced. She ran down the stairs, and this time people parted like the Red Sea for her, many having just seen what had happened, the rest turning to see what the red-head in the fountain was screeching about, or why a famous movie star was chasing after the girl in the wrecked dress.

She ran out of the front doors of the hotel and a black car with a vanity plate that read 'ALPHAML' stopped directly in front of her, the passenger door opening in the same motion.

"_Get in,_" said Hector.

Nevermind what her head wanted to do, her body obeyed the order at once.

* * *

The doors of the car had remote locks that would only open when the car was turned off, or if he chose to unlock them. And she didn't see that happening anytime soon. Chloe was terrified. Not only of what was potentially going to happen to her at the hands of this man, but of the power he'd exhibited over her more than once now. She'd left her cell phones at the office when she'd heard about Teri, so she couldn't call for help. She glanced around to see if there was anything she could use as a weapon, but the only thing to hand was the remaining rhinestone shoe. She was on her own.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked him, trying to sound braver than she felt. She was met with only an unsettling smile for an answer, as Hector forced the accelerator to the floor.

"An orange grove's been planted out in the desert. Movie, photoshoot, who knows. Only they know the reasons. Thought we'd check it out."

"They?"

With a hint of hostility, he glanced at her. "You ask too many questions."

"Sorry. When I get into people's cars for no reason, I kind of like to know what's going on."

"Don't worry, baby," he said with that same smile. "You'll find out soon enough." This statement was punctuated by the index finger of his free hand sliding from her opposite bare shoulder to her throat and around behind her neck.

A cold chill followed the progress of his finger and she shuddered. He laughed low in his throat, a growling sound that was probably going for sexy, but it only served to creep her out even more.

"Um... I really want to go home."

"Shh..." he said, and his attempt at soothing was no better than his attempt at sexy. "It's not time to leave Oz, yet, Dorothy. We've got a ways to go... Why don't you get some sleep."

She was much too afraid to do anything of the kind. "Uh... No."

"_Sleep._"

Darkness claimed her immediately.

* * *

"_Time to wake up._"

Chloe had _never _awoken from a sound sleep so quickly before. Her eyes snapped open and she saw Hector hovering above her with that slightly sinister smile. For a moment, she thought he was going to ravish her right there.

"Get out," he said, before opening the driver's door and exiting the car.

_Oh, thank God,_ she thought. _He's going to let me go!_

She blindly reached for the handle and mistakenly grasped the pocket of the door instead. A pink slip of paper was inside, a receipt for a rental car, which she barely glanced at before setting it aside. She took the door handle this time and stepped out of the car. The ground was cold under her bare feet.

Hector was right in front of her, closing the door as he stepped closer to her, pinning her up against the vehicle with his body, a hand resting on the car on either side of her. His proximity was decidedly uncomfortable and she squirmed, her gaze sliding away.

He leaned in close to her and took a deep breath through his nose, creating a rush of cold air across her shoulder, near her neck, as though breathing her in.

"So," he said, his tone knowing, but rather menacing. "He's already tasted you."

"What?"

He looked at her, appearing more than a little annoyed at all her questions. "He's fucked you," he stated bluntly. "You hadn't been the last time we met. At least, not in the extremely literal sense."

She blinked, her face turning red. "Not that it's any of your business, but how would you know that?"

He lifted one of his hands to her face, and the sense of crawling ants followed. "A woman becomes more desirable each time a man fucks her." His gaze slid obscenely over her body. "I want you many times more than the first time we met." His expression hardened and he grabbed her shoulder, roughly. "How many times has he fucked you?" he demanded, as though he had a right to know, shaking her. "How many?"

Something else was bugging her besides the way he was looking at her and handling her. The receipt popped up in her mind. Something about it had been familiar... It came to her in a sudden flash. The logo at the top... And the plate number she'd glanced at... She'd read it before. In the middle of a car chase. _This _was the person Ginger had hired to kill Teri. She had to get away from him!

Her face must have revealed her distress, because his eyes narrowed. "You're thinking about _him,_ aren't you?" he asked. "Pretty little pansy-ass Hollywood boy."

"No! No, I'm not," she said, hurriedly. It was also starting to occur to her that this man might not be all together _there_ in the head.

He smiled at her, all the menace in his face melting away to an expression of comfort. His grip on her shoulder loosened and his hand trailed down her arm. "Don't worry. In a few minutes, you won't think about him ever again."

_"What?"_ she exclaimed.

"I claimed you. You got away from me twice, but now you'll be mine. You'll only think about me. And we'll belong to each other. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

"Uh, no!"

"_Don't move._"

_Not again! _she thought, but she was already immobile. He leaned closer to her and her heart thundered in her chest like a hummingbird's. _Oh, God! What is he going to do to me? Am I going to get raped in the middle of an orange grove? Why can't I move? Somebody, help me!_

She could feel his lips at her throat, moving down to her bare shoulder, something that felt divine when Philip had done it, but the sensation was again something akin to a procession of ants with Hector. And then...

"OW!"

His head jolted back at her startled exclamation of pain, his eyes widening slightly. "That hurt?" he asked, surprised.

"YES, THAT HURT!" she yelled at him. "You just BIT me, you bastard!" Some dim part of her brain was telling her that it was probably unwise to yell at a potentially insane hit man, but anger and pain were temporarily overriding it. "Good God, what's WRONG with you? Am I bleeding? OWW!"

He straightened, standing back from her, his expression turning to one of resignation. "I hadn't expected that," he said.

"Neither did I!" she said, angrily.

"You don't have it in you," he said. He seemed almost disappointed.

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

"I thought you might be a fun diversion for a while, but it turns out I was wrong. This is inconvenient... Oh, well."

"What the HELL are you talking about?"

"This means I have to kill you."

"H-huh?" Her heart stuttered. _Oh, yeah... This is the bad guy. _To her dismay, she found she still couldn't move. "Wait... Why?"

His hands were once again reaching for her throat, much as they had that day in the alley, but now with a much more sinister intent. "You know too much," he replied, nonchalantly.

"No, I don't!" she squeaked as his fingers circled her neck. "I don't know anything! In fact, I'm even more confused than usual! Let me go! Please, let me go!"

_CRACK._

Chloe's eyes went wide as Hector froze, his mouth opening in a startled 'O.' He fell like a sack full of lead to the ground. Once the eye contact had been broken, Chloe found she could move again and she looked up to see Tessa, in some normal clothes now, dropping an enormous tree branch next to Hector's body. Her friend glared at her, grabbed her hand, and began to run through the trees with her at a mad dash.

"What part of 'don't leave the party with anyone strange' did you NOT understand?" asked Tessa as they ran. "'Stay there, we'll be back for you,' does that ring any bells?"

"I'm sorry," said Chloe, trying to hold up her skirt as they ran. "Why are we running? You hit him with a tree!"

"That won't stop him," she said, though Chloe couldn't fathom why it shouldn't. "Don't worry. Jeff's taking care of him. Fuck, Chloe! Not only do you leave the party, but you leave with the WORST possible person!"

"I'm sorry!" Chloe gasped. Since when was Tessa able to run this fast? Maybe this was how she lost the weight... Then again, she _was _trying to run through an orange grove in a torn ball gown and bare feet. She was even still clutching the rhinestone shoe in her other hand. "He told me to get in the car and I _had_ to... It doesn't make any sense! How does he get me to do whatever he wants?"

"Just like this! _Shut up and run!_"

Suddenly, Chloe found she had enough strength to keep running, but not to keep talking. She and Tessa ran on until they reached the other side of the grove where Tessa lifted her head, seeming to listen for something, though Chloe didn't hear anything but a coyote howling.

"Here," said Tessa, shoving a wallet into her hands. "Take this. Get to a cab. Go home. Lock the doors. Be safe!"

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Go!"

"Whose wallet is this?"

"Does it MATTER?" Tessa gave her friend a shove before she started heading back into the orange trees. "Get out of here! And don't stop until you get back to your apartment!"

The entire situation made absolutely no sense, but Chloe turned and ran for the main road in hopes of flagging a cab. Fortunately, she managed to find one almost immediately and the cabbie didn't speak much English, so she was free to wilt in the backseat as he drove to her apartment.

_This is not a good night,_ she decided, miserably. _My best friend is in a coma from which she might not wake up from. My other best friend is locked in a death match with some homicidal maniac. My boyfriend hates me, I'll probably never see him again. And I no longer have a job. This... sucks. _Thank God the cab driver couldn't talk to her; she really didn't want to explain why she suddenly burst into tears in his car.

Once she reached home, she took off the tattered dress and threw it and the shoe on a chair. Good thing she wasn't getting married, probably ever. The dress was unsalvageable, stained with mud and torn as it was. Sniffling, she used antiseptic where the psycho had bit her shoulder, then slathered cream on the bottoms of her feet and bandaged them.

She changed into an oversized t-shirt, reached into her fridge for a pint of Ben and Jerry's, grabbed a spoon, and began eating. She was halfway through her second carton of Cherry Garcia when she realized that, incredibly, it wasn't helping. The void inside of her would not be filled. Apparently, this was a pain that not even ice cream could cure.

That didn't mean she would stop eating it. Or that she wouldn't cry, because even if the tears just served to make her feel emptier, she couldn't have stopped them from falling. Not by a long shot.

To be continued...


	14. If The Shoe Fits

BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, Chloe walked through the doors of Premiere Advertising for what she assumed would be the last time. It was five a.m; way too early for any of the Triumvirate to be present. While she would have given almost anything to see Ginger with the shiner she'd given her, she was too afraid the woman might still strangle her where she stood if she were to show her face.

She swept all of her things on the desk into a large box and opened the drawers to do the same. She paused when she saw that the red phone, next to the other three which she planned on leaving behind, was blinking rapidly. After punching in the unlock code, it revealed that she had ten missed calls.

Her breath hitched in her throat as, with a sigh, she turned the phone off and threw it in the box.

* * *

Dennis shook his head. "Someone has been neglecting his trims." 

Philip knew that it wasn't just his hair that looked bad at the moment, and silently thanked the hairstylist for not saying anything about the purple circles under his eyes or two days worth of stubble on his face. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I've been... busy."

"You do realize that your head has my signature all over it? It's me who gets the blame if your style looks more than six weeks old." He sighed and gestured Philip over to a salon chair. "Sit your fine ass down. Now, tell me what's wrong," he said as he draped him in a cloth.

"What makes you think anything's wrong?"

Dennis didn't bother to answer; he just gave Philip a long look in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, something's wrong," Philip conceded. "I've tried everything to fix it. Nothing's worked." He sighed. "I think I've really screwed up."

"How so?" asked Dennis, setting to work.

"There's this woman. She thinks I hate her."

"Do you?"

"No! But..." He winced. "Remember what I told you last time? About being tired of all the fake? I might have said some things to her about honesty and wanting something real..."

The shears paused in their snipping for a moment. "You told a made-up woman that you wanted something real? I see... You said something stupid."

"Basically," he agreed. "But I met her when she _was _real, and then again when she wasn't. I didn't realize she was the same person until recently."

"Is that so?"

"Well..." Philip considered for a moment. "I think deep down inside, I might have known it was her, but I just didn't tell it to myself, or something like that. She won't admit that she's the same person, though, and now she's avoiding me. Probably because she thinks admitting it would make it a reality and as long as she doesn't see me, I can't tell her I hate her."

"Have you told her that you don't?"

"I've tried. She won't pick up her phone. Her cell phone goes directly to voice mail. She doesn't work at the place I knew she worked at anymore. I've tried texting her, emailing her, leaving messages, faxing..."

"How about going over to her house?"

"I don't want to seem like a stalker..." Dennis gave him another disapproving look and Philip let loose another sigh. "I'm at a loss for what to do. I've been sitting in my hotel room for days with a shoe in my hand like an idiot."

"A shoe?"

"She, uh... left behind a shoe the last time I saw her."

"I see..." He spun the chair around to cut the front of Philip's hair.

Philip's eyes went wide and then narrowed in confusion as he looked up to see two large framed pictures of him and Chloe as Miss C from the tabloids on the opposite wall. "Uh... Why do you have those framed?" he asked.

"Oh, I always frame my best work," replied Dennis, with a wink.

Philip stared at him for a moment. "I've been set up, haven't I?"

"Define 'set up.'" The shears went to work again. "You want some advice, sugar?"

"I'll take anything at this point."

"If she won't admit it to you, why don't you just prove it?"

"How?"

"You have one of my shoes. They're what you call 'factory seconds.' The reason why is because they leave a very distinct crescent moon shaped bruise on the outside of the foot. Just go over there and match the foot to the shoe."

Philip thought it over, then nodded, a slow smile creeping across his face for the first time in days. "That could work..."

"I've also got some advice for your other problem..."

"Advise away."

* * *

Chloe was taking a break from packing up her apartment, for the second time in less than a year, to go through the classifieds. There were plenty of ads for secretaries, just none that paid as well as her last job. The odds of finding someone as bitchy as Ginger were pretty slim. 

_I wish Teri would wake up,_ she thought. _Then not only could I stop worrying about her, but she'd hire me for sure, seeing as Ginger is being sued by Philip and the company won't look too kindly on that._

She circled a few likely prospects to call later and turned to the rental section. She wasn't looking forward to moving into an even smaller, crappier apartment, but she could no longer afford the small, crappy place she lived in.

After a few minutes of searching, she threw the paper on a box and headed for the refrigerator with a sigh. The days-long depression she hadn't been able to shake was coming back in force the more she looked at the ads, and that meant it was time for an ice cream break. Where once her endless store had been dwindling, her little fridge was once again packed to the gills and there were empty cartons strewn all over the apartment, much the same way an alcoholic would bottles of booze. She grabbed some Phish Food and flopped on the couch.

Her legs landed on the remote control for the television, flipping it on. As her luck would have it, the Bravo! Channel was playing Philip's version of Hamlet. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to turn it off. She sniffled as she watched Philip be a jerk to Ophelia, the prelude to another batch of tears.

Their relationship felt so unfinished. Probably because it was. Some ridiculous part of her almost _wanted_ to answer his calls so he could yell at her and have done with it. But mostly, she just wanted to crawl away and forget everything awful that had happened, leaving the wonderful, untainted parts for her to fondly remember. Before she screwed it all up... _Just like every relationship, _she thought, miserably, settling in for another self-abuse session. _Okay, admittedly, Jason screwed up the last time and pretty damn majorly, but still..._

She yanked up a handful of tissues from the almost empty box nearby and blew her nose loudly.

"..loe!"

Her brow furrowed. _Did Hamlet just call my name?_ It was the same voice, British accent and everything. She took the remote and turned down the volume.

"Chloe!" This was followed by knocking.

She covered her face with her hands. Philip was at the door. She had wondered how long it would take... Maybe if she was quiet he'd just leave...

"I know you're in there..." A momentary pause. "...Chloe! I heard your telly and your car is in your driveway. So unless you walked somewhere and left your television on, you've got to be home!"

_Crap... Just be quiet, he'll eventually go away._

"Come on..." Pause. "...Chloe! I just want to see your right foot!"

She blinked. "What?"

"Ah-HA! You _are _home!"

"Fuck..." she muttered. "No, I'm not!"

"Is your right foot home?"

"My right foot doesn't want to see you!"

"If you don't open the door, I'm going to keep screaming your name and when I lose my voice I'll go get an air horn to do the job for me. I'll do it, I mean it!"

She sighed. If he did that, and she wouldn't put it past him, the neighbors would complain. And even though she was leaving the apartment complex, she really didn't want to be responsible for Philip being led away by the police.

She got up from the couch and, with the chain still drawn, she opened the door a few inches. Admittedly, aside from his hair, he looked terrible. He looked like he hadn't had any sleep in days. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one.

"Did you come to humiliate me?" she asked.

"No. I came to see your right foot. Are you going to let me in?"

She really didn't understand the foot business, but she slid the chain and opened the door. "Your British is showing, by the way," she said as she stood back so he could enter.

"I'm under just a little emotional duress," he said, dryly. He stopped in the entryway, looking around at all the chaos. "This is a bit different than I remember it. Where are you going?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "Probably to a storage unit and then to Tessa's or Teri's until I can find another job. Can I offer you something?" She went to the fridge and looked in. "I've got Moose Tracks and some caramel stuff, but that might be a little runny..."

"Chloe..."

She sighed, closing her eyes. She never thought her name could sound so good and yet so heart-wrenching at the same time. "What?"

"Could you just... come over here for a second?"

_Let's get this over with, _she thought. There was apparently no hope of prolonging what would probably be the last time they met. She went to the couch and sat down, turning the television off with the remote as she did so. He knelt in front of her and removed her fuzzy red slipper, at which point he stopped and stared at the bandages.

"What happened to you?"

"I sprinted barefoot through an orange grove."

"Why?"

"Long story. But it should be okay to take those off. The swelling's gone down."

Carefully, he unwound the gauze, and then took from a paper bag he'd brought in with him the broken rhinestone shoe she'd left behind.

"I believe this is yours."

"No, it's not." She didn't feel guilty about that one, since it wasn't a lie.

"All right, it's Davis', but _you_ were wearing it."

"How do you know Dennis?" she asked, surprised.

"He does my hair. Don't change the subject!"

"I feel like I've been set up."

"Apparently, that depends on your definition." He slipped the shoe onto her foot and examined it. She noted how the bruise on her foot matched exactly where the shoe strap pressed against it too hard and sighed, realizing why he'd been so set on seeing her feet. Here was something she hadn't anticipated. She'd been sold out by her hairstylist.

He looked up at her. "Are you _still_ going to tell me you're not the same person?"

Sadly, she shook her head. "Go ahead."

"Go ahead and what?"

"Yell at me. Be angry." She stared at her lap, unable to look at him. "Tell me how I led you on, lied to you, or, at the very least, committed the sin of omission. I wanted to tell you so many times, but the opportunity always got away from me, and then eventually, it had just been too long. Sure, I expected it all to end, but I kept hoping for a little bit longer, just a little bit more, because I was greedy. I wanted it all. It was stupid... Especially after everything you said about wanting reality, when all the time I was this made-up doll, you have to hate me now."

"Are you finished?"

She nodded.

"Good. Because it sounds like you're doing a pretty good job of hating yourself." He sighed. "I don't hate you... Chloe. I've been trying to get a hold of you all this time so I could tell you that."

She glanced up at him. "Really?"

"Yes. But how could I, when you wouldn't admit to me that you were Miss C, or, more importantly, even speak to me."

"But I lied to you..."

He shook his head. "Everything you said to me as Miss C was the truth. Every bit of her was you, even if the exterior was different. You said you wanted to tell me, and I believe you. I probably could have realized the truth about you before now, too, but I didn't. We've both made mistakes. But I don't think that anything that's happened is reason enough to call everything off." He reached up and took her hands in his. "I've learned something... Chloe, impossible as that is to believe. It doesn't matter what you look like on the outside, as long as who you are on the inside is the truth. And on the inside, you were always..." He glanced down, briefly. "...Chloe. Isn't that right?"

Her heart was throbbing. Incredible as it was, it was sounding like he still wanted to be with her. She nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yeah." Something was bugging her, though. "Philip?"

"Yes?"

"Say my name."

Again, he glanced down. "Chloe."

"One more time?"

Glance. "Chloe."

She grabbed his arm and examined it. "Did you... Did you _tattoo_ my name on your arm?" she asked in disbelief. The marks could be covered with make-up or a large wristwatch, and if it wasn't looked at too closely it could even be mistaken for an obscure freckle pattern, but sure enough, written near his left wrist in brown ink was the name _Chloe._ "A tattoo on an actor's arm is prime real estate!" she exclaimed, still staring at it. "What were you _thinking_?"

"This way I'll never forget your name," he said. "It was Darius' idea, he wrote it down for me, and I thought it was a pretty good one, but if you want, I'll have it done in bright pink, blue, or red; something that can't be covered by make-up. Just say you'll be with me again. I don't want just Miss C or just..." Glance. "...Chloe. I want all of you, every part of you. I--"

"Hold it," she said, anticipating what he could have been about to say. She bit her lip slightly, considering. "You might be ready to say that, but... I don't think I'm ready to hear it, yet."

He paused for a moment, then nodded, conceding. "If things don't work out..."

"Yeah," she said. "I like you a lot, Philip. And apparently, you like me enough to brand yourself," she added with a wry smile. "But I'm not quite ready to take that big a gamble on my heart with someone who seems too good to be true. These last few days were Hell. If we're going to be together, I want a sure thing."

He smiled. "Longer than a Hollywood forever."

"Much longer," she agreed. "Longer than Brad and Jen."

"And Tom and Nicole."

"And Johnny and Winona."

"I don't think Joey and Winona are all that comparable to us..."

She blinked. "You know Johnny Dep?"

"_Johnny_, right!" He nodded, his forehead wrinkling slightly. "A very odd man."

"That says a lot, coming from you."

"Thanks," he said, dryly. He hesitated a moment. "Well... If you're not ready to hear _those_ words... Would you be ready to hear 'Move in with me?'"

Her eyes widened slightly. "In L.A.?"

"It _is _my home." He gestured at the rest of the apartment with a nod of his head. "And it looks like you're nearly packed anyway."

She pursed her lips, thinking it over. "I want to split the rent."

"I own."

"Oh... Well, I'll take the crappiest bedroom you have."

"I've only got one. We'll have to share. Oh, damn." But he was grinning like a goof as he said it.

She sighed lightly. "I know it seems like I'm being hesitant, don't get me wrong, I _would _like to move in with you. But as it stands, it looks like I'm only doing it because I have no where else to go. I just don't want it to seem like I'm taking advantage of you..." she said.

He stared at her. "You've never had a boyfriend who treated you right, have you?" The resolve in his expression renewed itself as he tightened his grip on her hands. "Give me an audition. Let me have three months. If it doesn't work out, then we can part ways, and I'll pay for you to move back, or anywhere else you want..."

She couldn't help but smile at his business-like tactics. "Philip..."

"I'll prove it to you. I can be the man you deserve."

"Philip."

"I'll show you what it's like to be in a _real_ relationship. Well, as real as it can be, while dating a Hollywood actor..."

"Philip!"

She finally succeeded in gaining his attention. "What?"

She put a finger to her lips. "Too much small talk." She knew her expression probably revealed how vulnerable she was feeling, but at the moment, she didn't care. Her eyes were growing bright green with tears as she looked up at him. "Can I... Can I just cuddle with my boyfriend on the couch right now?"

He smiled, rising slightly to sit down next to her, and then gather her into his arms. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she said, shaking her head against his chest. "I'm just... I didn't think I could be so happy."

He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, the shadow on his jaw catching strands of her hair. "Me too."

As her leg dangled off the edge of the couch, the broken shoe fell from her foot. She didn't move to pick it up; she wasn't going to move for a very long time.

THE END... until next time.

* * *

Author's Note: At last! The finale of Chloe's story, more or less. Again, we'll still be clarifying things in Teri's story, which is coming up next! We hope you look forward to it and continue to give us feedback! We'll see you all again, we hope, in "Reduced To This!" 

--Angel and Parsley--

------NEWS!------  
If you enjoyed this story and it's companions and want more... We are currently adapting these stories as Audio Dramas! So, you can hear Chloe, Philip, and everyone else as these stories are woven together in an on-going radio play! And it's not just what we have of these stories, oh no... The audio series will go above and beyond what's on these pages. We're very excited about it and thought we'd share this with our readers who have been so supportive and patient with us.  
For more information, please visit pendantaudio dot com and please have a listen to the other shows as well, the people at Pendant Audio are so multi-talented and their shows are very entertaining! (And you may hear me and Parsley acting in them, as well!)  
Happy listening!

--Angel Sentier--


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